Selected Writings
by hardly loquacious
Summary: Selections from previous story, Long Lost long last , from Patrick Jane's POV, as requested. Can be read alone, but may be disjointed if you haven't read the original. After a case involving obscure hobbies, Jane decides to bring back the long lost art of letter-writing. In spite of his best efforts, he only manages to secure a single correspondant.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Here it is! Selections of "Long Lost (long last)" from Jane's POV as requested by my lovely readers. I'm posting my scene requests in chronological order based on the original story. I am assuming you've read it, by the way. It would probably help, since there are gaps in the narrative. Since many requests were made by multiple people/cover various scenes, I'm not stating who requested them, just FYI. Also, I have to say, between you guys, you got pretty good coverage of the fic. This might take a while...

Selected Writings

xxx

_Request #1: Jane upon receiving Lisbon's first letter_

xxx

Jane walked into the CBI early Monday morning with a smile on his face.

He wasn't ashamed to admit (at least to himself) that he'd been vaguely curious all weekend about how his letters would be received.

The letters had been an interesting diversion. A little bit of fun. He wondered what the team had thought of his little notes. He imagined they'd do nothing but tease him a little about them. At most, he'd have embarrassed Rigsby, and possibly Van Pelt. The notes had been surprisingly easy to write. It was always interesting, how you could spend so much time with people, years even, and still not know some of the basic things about them, hence his questions.

Still, he admitted even to himself that the notes had been a little silly, and it was probable that he wouldn't receive replies from three of his team members (unless Van Pelt wrote back out of sheer politeness, but Jane doubted it). Three of the notes had been particularly foolish.

Jane's smile turned wistful as he sauntered into the empty bullpen.

There was one letter that'd been different (and one person who might react differently).

As she so often was, Lisbon was the wildcard.

Jane lay down on his couch and waited for the team's arrival, his curiosity mounting with each passing minute.

To Jane's surprise, neither Rigsby, Cho or an Pelt so much as mentioned the letters when they arrived at work (although, Jane was pretending to take a nap, which might have had something to do with it). Still, Jane hadn't been expecting a _written_ reply, but some form of acknowledgement of receipt might have been nice.

But no, nothing.

The subject of his letters only came up when Lisbon walked into the bullpen to wish everybody a good morning. That was when the mockery started.

Jane took the teasing about his notes with good grace. Particularly when he realized that Lisbon had very neatly deflected all attention from the letter she'd received. She hadn't mentioned that hers had been quite a bit longer, and quite a bit different in scope. She'd let her team draw her own conclusions. And, Jane thought with a smirk, she'd also deflected attention away from the fact that she'd thought he hadn't written her one. (Foolish woman. Really, as if he'd leave her out. If he'd planned on only writing three letters, he'd have definitely ensured one was to her. Really, if he'd planned on only writing _one _letter...)

Jane wondered what she'd thought about her letter in the end.

He wondered what she'd done with it.

He wondered if she'd bring it up when the two of them were alone, away from team members who might tease her.

He'd give her until noon. If she hadn't broached the conversation before then, he'd sneak into her office and spring it on her.

Jane watched Lisbon carefully as she bantered with her team

He smiled at her as she walked over to his couch, obviously trying to look casual. "Since I'm all too aware that you won't be doing any normal paperwork, take a look through this file for me, would you? Technically the case belongs to organized crime, but Wainwright wanted a second opinion," Lisbon said quietly.

"As you wish, Lisbon," Jane said agreeably, still watching her face closely. She was avoiding his eyes just slightly. She wasn't having trouble looking at him or anything; there was no guilt, but she was just a little awkward. Jane grinned. Something was up. If he wasn't mistaken, something related to a surprising correspondence in her life. He was still considering his next remark, when Lisbon gave him an awkward little wave and turned towards her office.

Jane frowned slightly. What was going on with that woman? Was she feeling guilty or some such nonsense because she hadn't liked his letter? Or maybe she hadn't wanted to write back even in fun and now didn't know how to tell him? To hide his displeasure, Jane flipped open his file and started skimming the contents.

The case was a particularly boring one. It would barely take ten minutes to come up with something to tell Wainwright. Jane figured he'd better get it over with. For some reason, his Monday didn't seem quite so fun anymore.

Midway through the file, Jane's fingers stilled and his eyes lit up. It seemed his file had an unexpected addition written in familiar handwriting. Jane chuckled to himself. Tampering with a police file, Agent Lisbon, he thought to himself. How surprising.

He really should have known she'd write back. He really, really should have known. Underneath all of her gruffness and occasional sarcasm, Teresa Lisbon was at heart a very kind woman. There was no way she'd ignore something that she thought might be important to him. It wasn't in her.

Surreptitiously slipping her note to the front of the file, Jane settle back against his couch and began to read.

x

_Dear Jane,_

_Thank you for the lovely note yesterday. It made for interesting reading. However, seeing as the state's paying us to keep criminals off the streets, if you could see your way clear to doing some actual work today, you know, the stuff we pay you for, that would be great. _

_Yours ever, _

_Lisbon _

_P.S. I can't speak for Rigsby, but for me? Good quality ice cream all the way._

x

Jane grinned. Even on the page she was scolding, but as ever, a little thread of fun slipped through.

He'd been fairly certain he'd be able to coax her into his little game. (Fairly certain, but not positive. That'd been the problem.)

Jane got up and got a piece of paper off his desk.

Wainwright's boring file could wait another few minutes.

He had another letter to write. Wouldn't want his potential new pen pal to slip away, not when she was showing such promise.

xxx

_Request #2: The scenes with the mail room guy_

xxx

Jane was prowling the halls o f the CBI. Surreptitiously of course. Just wandering aimlessly, while trying his best to look like he wasn't wandering aimlessly. Actually, that was a lie. His wanderings had an aim, a very specific aim.

He was searching for Lisbon.

He hadn't actually seen much of her that day, which was a bit odd. She'd dropped off a letter for him that morning, but since then she'd been busy with all variety of meetings and paperwork, and Jane hadn't really wanted any part of that. He had written her a reply of course (in which he expounded at length on the negative impacts of pointless bureaucracy on the psyche). He supposed he could just leave it for her in her office. He'd had loads of time to do that; she hadn't been in it for the better part of an hour and a half.

But Jane wasn't in the mood for such a hands-off method of delivery. Not today..

He wanted to see her. He couldn't decide if he wanted to noticeably slip the letter into her pocket and watch her smile as he did it, or if he wanted to slip it in subtly so she didn't notice, and only found the note later after he was gone.

Jane considered his dilemma as he ambled down the hall (his sources put Lisbon on the east side of the first floor). He thought he might want to see her smile that afternoon.

Nodding to himself, Jane rounded the corner towards the mail room. And there she was, talking to _Brad_, the mail room guy whose smile Jane was only too aware of Lisbon's feelings about (Jane couldn't see anything particular noteworthy about it, but Lisbon did tend to frequent the mail room when Brad was behind the desk, so...). Jane shook his head indulgently, hovering just outside the room. He didn't want to give her his letter in front of _Brad._ He'd just wait until she was done... whatever she was doing.

Jane frowned as he watched Lisbon step even closer to her favourite mail room employee. She reached into her coat pocket and removed a letter, which she slipped to _Brad_ with a conspiratorial wink.

Jane froze momentarily in shock. Then, recollecting himself quickly slipped back in the direction he'd come in, intent on getting as far away from the mailroom as quickly as possible (and before she noticed him lurking).

So!

So, Lisbon was slipping letters into the pockets of multiple men, was she? Well, really only him and Brad, that he knew of, but how many others were out there? She could be writing to literally _dozens_ of CBI employees, and Jane would have had no idea. It wasn't like he followed her every move or anything.

Jane sighed. Alright, maybe _dozens_ was unlikely. Lisbon didn't have that much free time with the hours she worked. She probably didn't have time for an army of correspondents. Still, it was obvious that Jane wasn't the only one. And she did think _Brad_ was attractive... (Jane supposed he was, if you liked the type. Square-jawed, with a kind of vacant cheerfulness to him.)

Jane slipped up to the attic to mull over this new development in peace.

So Lisbon had a second pen pal.

Well!

Obviously that was just _fine_. She could write letters to the whole CBI if she wanted to. She'd certainly been enjoying the letters the two of them had exchanged. Why shouldn't she write others? Jane suspected he'd given her the idea. Obviously Lisbon had just jumped on board the whole letter writing train he'd started and then expanded the line to include more stations.

Jane decided to abandon his train metaphor.

It didn't matter. None of it mattered. As he said, Lisbon was well within her rights to pick up other correspondents.

Still, she might have told him about it. After all, it _had_ been his idea to try to bring back the long lost art of letter writing. Sure, he'd only gotten one correspondent out of the attempt, but he had written to a selection of people originally. Lisbon had known his plan. She might have told him of her success.

Jane scowled.

Although, why she'd picked _Brad, _Jane would never know. He rather doubted his letters were scintillating. A winning smile certainly didn't guarantee an entertaining letter. But maybe Lisbon just liked having the excuse to go down to the mail room.

_Women._

Well, Jane thought with a scowl. She had her new correspondent now. She probably didn't need her letter from him today. Probably wouldn't even notice that he hadn't written back. After all, he hadn't even seen her all day. She clearly wasn't looking for him. She was probably too busy to write the likes of him letters.

In that case, maybe he was too lazy to go downstairs and give her the reply he'd written earlier.

Deciding he probably was, Jane lay down on his makeshift bed and decided his sudden tiredness meant it was clearly time to take a nap.

x

A couple hours later he heard someone walking up the stairs, and knocking on his door.

It had obviously finally occurred to Lisbon that he wasn't downstairs and hadn't been for much of the afternoon. He had gone downstairs earlier in search of a book. He'd been drawn into conversation with Cho and Rigsby, but had luckily managed to escape when Lisbon and Grace arrived, back from an errand of some kind.

And now, here Lisbon was, standing in front of him, looking concerned. Hmph. "Jane, what's the matter?" she asked gently.

He didn't look at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He saw her square her shoulders out of the corner of his eye. Apparently she was in the mood for a confrontation. Well, _good._ He wasn't going to give her one though; see how she liked that. "Yes you do," she insisted.

Other then the slightest tightening of his jaw, Jane didn't react. Instead, he deliberately used his most condescending tone, "I don't. But you seem to think something's wrong, so why don't you tell me what it is then."

"Damn it Jane!" Lisbon said in frustration.

Jane tutted critically, unashamedly pleased by her outburst, "Such language, Teresa."

Lisbon (probably wisely) decided to ignore his comment, taking a deep breath. "You've been acting odd all afternoon. Now are you going to tell me what happened, or are you going to make me guess?"

"Guessing won't get you very far, since I've told you there's nothing wrong," Jane continued, his tone still carefully even, still refusing to engage with her.

That was when Lisbon decided to play dirty. She nudged his arm over slightly, and sat down next to him on his makeshift bed in the attic. "Patrick," she said softly, her tone wheedling, caring, even _concerned._

Jane's eyelids fluttered almost imperceptibly. She _would_ play the first name card. Vixen.

Lisbon sighed, obviously not sure how to tackle the conversation. Jane wasn't surprised. After all, she didn't know that she'd been _caught._ He could see right through her little 'concerned boss' act now. "You don't have to tell me what's bothering you if you don't want to. I'm not going to force you, but I thought... I thought..." Lisbon trailed off, trying to find the words.

Jane prompted her grudgingly. He was curious about her unfinished sentence in spite of himself. "You thought what, Teresa?" he asked, his tone harsher than he'd meant.

Apparently he wasn't the only person who hadn't expected his tone. Jane was surprised when Lisbon's breath caught in her throat. "I thought that you wanted to talk more," she said softly. "Or I guess, not really talk but... something. Wasn't that, wasn't that the point... with the letters I mean..."

Jane glared at her. "Ah yes, the letters. You've taken quite a liking to letter-writing, haven't you Teresa?" he asked scathingly.

Lisbon blinked, and looked almost _hurt._ "Well, so have you. I've been writing to someone all this time," she defended.

"Hm," Jane hummed noncommittally. He wasn't the only one she'd been writing too. He decided to remind her of that fact. "Now tell me, what does Brad from the Mail Room think of letter-writing?"

Lisbon looked thoroughly confused by the question. Odd, he'd have expected her to catch on before now. "Well, his job is somewhat dependent on letter-volume, so I'd guess he's all for it."

"You'd guess?" Jane mocked slightly. Obviously it hadn't come up. Looks like he'd been right n his earlier assumption that Lisbon's second correspondence wasn't exactly heavy on the substance.

Lisbon frowned. "Yeah..."

Jane chuckled softly to himself, but there was very little humour in the sound. "You haven't asked him?"

"Uh, no?" Lisbon said slowly, and staring at Jane like he had two heads.

"Oh, it hasn't come up, I suppose," Jane pressed.

"No, it hasn't," Lisbon replied, obviously near total confusion. "I mean, I pass him in the halls, maybe in the break room, or when I go pick up my mail... We don't really have a lot of conversations about how he feels about letter-writing, Jane."

Jane harrumphed derisively. "Your conversations don't sound like they have a lot of substance then, Lisbon."

"No, I don't suppose they do," Lisbon agreed.

Jane scowled. And men were accused of being the shallow ones. "And that doesn't bother you? So what is it then? His penmanship?"

She stared at him for a few seconds before finally replying. "I really wouldn't know. I don't think I've ever seen his penmanship. The only time we've ever even..." Jane watched her pause. She'd obviously come to some kind of a conclusion. He wondered what it was. Maybe she finally realized that she'd been found out. He'd found her out, with his superior investigative skills. He wondered what her reaction would be.

"The only time you've what?" Jane prompted, definitely irritated now.

To his shock, Lisbon let out a whoosh of laughter and got on her feet. "Stand up," she ordered.

"What?" Jane demanded, thrown slightly off balance.

The woman was _laughing_ at him! Laughing at him, and he was the injured party. Maybe that was _why_ she was laughing at him.

Oh, she thought it was funny did she? She was enjoying herself? Of course she was in a good mood. She was picking up people to write letters to left, right and centre. Jane wondered how often she did this. If she was exchanging notes with other people. After he'd been the one who'd wanted to bring back the long lost art of letter writing. She'd just... She'd taken over _his _goal.

She was writing to Brad, whose correspondence Jane was sure must be just _scintillating_.

Not that Lisbon couldn't write to Brad, but...

The letters had been _his _idea. This was supposed to be theirs... Not...

And now Lisbon was laughing at him.

"Humour me, you idiot. Stand up," Lisbon ordered a second time with a grin, disrupting Jane's thoughts.

Jane frowned, "I'm comfortable."

"You're not," Lisbon contradicted affectionately.

"Yes I am," Jane insisted stubbornly.

Lisbon stared at him for a second. "You're lying on a board," she said logically after a moment.

"A comfortable board," he insisted. He certainly wasn't going to agree with her.

Then she sighed, obviously getting a little sick of this game. "Jane..."

"Lisbon..."

She closed her eyes briefly, "Please. Please Patrick, just trust me this once."

Jane froze. The first name again, and a request to trust her? Wow. Lisbon was really pulling out the big guns now. He sighed internally. He'd been sunk the second she'd asked him to trust her. Hadn't stood a ghost of a chance. Still, that didn't mean that he had to hop to do her bidding. He waited a full three seconds before swinging his legs over the edge of his door while Lisbon waited patiently beside him. "There, Happy now?" he muttered as he stood. "Now what was suddenly so important that..."

Lisbon stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Tightly.

Jane stilled completely. It was the first time she'd ever hugged him without prompting. The first time she'd initiated one of their hugs, that is. And this was a real hug. Lisbon was showing no signs of letting go anytime soon. It was... interesting.

"Brad from the mail room wants to surprise his girlfriend in two weeks," Lisbon murmured close to his ear. Jane found he liked the sound of her voice so close by as she continued. "You've met Alice. She's an admin assistant downstairs. Anyway, iIt's her birthday. He wants to throw her a surprise party and he wants it to be a complete surprise so there's not supposed to be a hint of anything about it in his e-mail in-box since apparently she sees his e-mail sometimes. Anyway, I have a friend who owns a restaurant on the other side of town that would be perfect for what he wants, so I slipped him the information today in the mail room. We were a bit sneaky since Alice works in the building. I gave him a piece of paper with the contact information. Slipped it in his pocket, which I admit, I got that idea from our letters. But Brad's secret message only had an address, name and phone number written on it."

Oh.

_Oh._

Jane slid his hands around her waist, returning the hug, and squeezing just slightly. She _hadn't_ been corresponding with Brad. "I'm not sure why you're telling me any of this," he said weakly.

"Because I think you saw me slip Brad the piece of paper," Lisbon told him.

"So?" he asked, still trying to sound nonchalant.

She grinned, obviously seeing right through him. "I'm not in the middle of a secret correspondence with Brad from the mail room, Jane."

"I didn't think you were," he denied immediately.

"Of course not," Lisbon agreed.

"I didn't," he insisted.

"And I agreed," Lisbon reminded him cheerfully.

Jane turned slightly towards her, angling his nose into her hair. It was just so soft. He sighed. "Okay, maybe I did."

She nodded, "And you got jealous, which is just ridiculous by the way."

"First of all, I was not jealous," Jane insisted. He hadn't been _jealous. _Who would be jealous of _Brad_, the mail guy? Really now. _Jealous._ "And second of all, even if I _was_, it wouldn't be ridiculous. How would you like it if I started writing to Van Pelt?"

Now it was Lisbon's turn to stiffen slightly in his arms, to Jane's extreme amusement. It seemed he wasn't the only one who was a bit possessive of their correspondence. "You're more than welcome to write to Van Pelt, if you like," she said primly after a moment. "In fact, I believe you have," she added in a lighter tone.

Jane grinned, feeling slightly more in control of the conversation now.. "Once."

"Exactly," she muttered.

Jane pulled back so that he could tip her chin up to meet her eyes. "I'm not going to start writing to Van Pelt, Teresa." he promised, only too happy to reassure her. After all, they didn't need to go through this afternoon's exercise over and over again each time either one of them jotted down a note. Once was more than enough enough.

"Alright, whatever," Lisbon muttered with a shrug, obviously a bit uncomfortable. "I don't care one way or another. It's none of my business. So if you wanted to..."

"I don't," Jane assured her firmly. "And I'm not going to start writing to Cho, or to Rigsby, or to anyone else..."

Lisbon paused. "Is this your way of telling me that I'm your only office pen-pal?" she asked, Jane thought her voice might have even sounded hopeful.

"You're my only pen-pal, period," Jane corrected bluntly.

"Hm," Lisbon said, biting her lip in obvious pleasure.

"Hm?" Jane asked incredulously. He'd laid most of his cards on the table and she had nothing else to say? "That's all you have to say. Hm?"

"What were you expecting?" Lisbon asked, eyes twinkling.

"Something more than Hm," Jane muttered.

Lisbon smiled suddenly. "You're the only person I write to too, Jane."

"Well... good," Jane said after a brief pause where he watched her face. "That's all there is to say, I guess."

"Is this your way of asking me to make our correspondence exclusive?" Lisbon prompted, hints of a smile flashing around her face.

Now it was Jane's turn to falter slightly. "Don't be silly, Lisbon... I wouldn't..."

"Jane..." she warned.

He shrugged, suddenly realizing he shouldn't let this particular opportunity slip by. "Although, now that you mention it..."

"Okay," she said quickly. In fact, the rapidity of her response rather startled (and pleased) him.

"Okay?" he double-checked before he could stop himself.

"Yes," she confirmed with a nod, obviously pleased.

Jane nodded with a smile of his own. "Alright."

"I mean, I'm not saying that I'm never going to write another letter to anyone else," Lisbon hastened to clarify. "I'm sure I'll need to write a letter from time to time in life."

"Of course," Jane agreed with a wave of his hand. He didn't care about that. As long as... as long as she didn't have another daily pen pal, another person that she came up with creative insults for by way of greeting, and whose notes she hid in secret hiding places. She could write as many _boring, _practical letters to other people as she wanted to. "I understand."

"Good."

"Hm."

That was when something else obviously occurred to Lisbon. "Jane?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes?" he asked cheerfully.

"Can I have my answer now?" she asked still hesitantly.

Jane let his amusement surface on his face, just to irritate her. "What answer?" he asked. He knew he was pushing it now, but he just couldn't help it. And anyway, she obviously didn't mind. After all, she'd put up with him for this long.

She glared at him.

Jane smiled self-deprecatingly before removing a folded piece of paper from his vest pocket and slipping it into her jacket.

"Thank you," she murmured

He ran his thumb along her pocket, back and forth and back and forth, couldn't help himself. "You're welcome Lisbon."

"Are you over your unreasonable sulk now?" she wondered.

That earned her a slight glare. "It was not unreasonable."

She smirked. "So you do admit to sulking?"

Jane paused briefly before recovering. "No."

Lisbon held out an olive branch. "Want to come downstairs and have some tea?"

"Don't you want to read your letter?" Jane reminded her. She had asked for it after all.

He watched her pause, obviously considering his reminder. Jane could see that he'd been right. She did want to read her letter. He smiled and suggested an alternative solution. "Or I could just meet you in your office in fifteen minutes with a pot."

Lisbon spiled back. "Okay."

"Okay."

She patted him on the shoulder, stepping away from him. "Try to contain your insane jealousy until then, would you?"

"I was not jealous!" he insisted. He hadn't been jealous! He'd just been... _concerned. _Concerned that she was spending so much time with _Brad._ Jane didn't want her IQ to suffer after all.

"Mmhm," she said on her way out.

"I wasn't," he muttered just before he heard the attic door slid shut.

Jane grinned. It seemed Agent Lisbon was exceedingly attached to their correspondence. Well, _good._

Not that he'd been worried about that or anything.

xxx

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here are the next two. I think these are going to get harder to write as the fic progresses. Jane's POV is going to get a bit dark, I'd imagine. Oh well. I'll do my best. In the meantime, enjoy these.

xxx

_Request # 3: One of Jane's conversations with Annie? _

xxx

Jane watched Lisbon stalk around the bullpen from his position on her couch.

She was demanding her agents fill out their paperwork from their last case (or some other bureaucratic nonsense). Apparently everything needed to be in order by the end of the day for the AG's office. Jane was glad no one trusted him with that sort of thing. He really couldn't be bothered with it.

Lisbon, on the other hand, seemed to take it all in stride.

Jane smirked to himself. He bet she'd been in charge of about a dozen committees in high school. Then he frowned. Of course, she might not have had the time; there would have been a quite a number of things on her plate back then (just as there was now). Still, Jane decided that, at the very least, she would have taken charge of any and all group projects.

Although, she must have been a member of at least one club...

He smiled slightly. He'd been thinking about what Lisbon had been likein high school a lot recently, probably as a result of the conversations in their letters about her years being taught by nuns. The more Jane found out about the teenage Teresa Lisbon, the curiouser he became. He decided that he'd have liked to meet Lisbon in high school, before she became quite so confident as she currently was.

Jane imagined a slightly more uncertain, younger Lisbon would be particularly endearing.

He at least wanted to see a photo.

But where to get one? There might have been a way using the internet, but technology had never been his strong suit. Much easier to get a paper copy. The obvious place to start would be to find a copy of her high school yearbook. Of course, most copies of Lisbon's high school yearbooks would be in the Chicago area. She might have a couple in her apartment, but he'd never be given willing access to those.

Jane frowned. There must be another copy of Lisbon's high school yearbook on the west coast.

Jane grinned suddenly. There was certainly another Lisbon sibling on the west coast.

He took out his cell phone and started typing in a text message. _How'd you like to learn how to tell if someone's lying?_

It took a few minutes for the reply to arrive, during which time Jane amused himself by watching Rigsby try to find the file he'd misplaced. Jane could have told him it was in his right-hand drawer, but it was more fun to watch Rigsby become slowly more and more panicked as he searched.

Rigsby'd just located his missing file when Jane's phone vibrated with a text message. _What's the catch?_

He smirked. The family resemblance between the Lisbo women was particularly striking sometimes. _Such suspicion, Annie. I can't just want to share information? _

The reply came more quickly this time. _Seriously, what's the catch?_

Jane sighed. _Does your father still have his old high school yearbooks?_

_Yes..._

Jane could practically feel the trepidation in her text message. He ignored it, typing in his next question. _Did his high school years overlap with his big sister's?_

He waited patiently for Annie's reply, unsurprised when she guessed exactly what he was after. _You want a picture of Aunt Reese in high school?_

Jane refused to feel awkward or embarrassed. _Yes_, he confirmed.

Annie's reply came promptly. _Why? _

Jane shrugged. _Just curious._

_Sure you are. Try again._ Annie told him.

Jane frowned. _I am_, he insisted. _I've known your aunt for a long time, Annie. She has pictures up of her brothers when they were younger up in her office, but she doesn't have any pictures of herself. I'm just curious_

_Plus you probably want to post copies all over the CBI_. Annie texted back.

Jane's frown turned into a grimace. _I don't, _he insisted. _I just want to see what she looked like. See how much she's changed. I wasn't planning on showing the picture to anyone._

The reply was immediate. _You promise?_

Jane exhaled in relief, sensing impending victory. _I promise. _

_You really just want to see a picture of Aunt Reese in high school? For no particular reason?_ Annie double-checked.

Jane sighed again. He should have known it wouldn't be that simple. _No particular reason other than curiosity about a friend_, he assured the over-protective Annie.

There was a slight pause, during which Jane knew that Annie was weighing her options. Finally the reply came. _Dad started high school the year Aunt Reese graduated_, she informed him. _I could scan her grad photo if you want. But I'm not including her quote or favourite song or anything. That I know you'll just use to mock her._

Jane shrugged to himself. He didn't care so much about the quote anyway. He could well imagine the sort of quotation a teenage Teresa Lisbon would have included, something about overcoming obstacles or taking each day as it came and appreciating your blessings. No, he didn't need that. The photo on the other hand... _That seems fair_, he told Annie.

_So how do you tell if people are lying?_ she asked. _If they look to the left, or whatever?_

Jane grinned. He'd known his offer would get her. Really, when making deals, a person just needed the right leverage. _Sometimes,_ he confirmed_. But mostly look for anything that changes. If you check their pulse, and it suddenly speeds up like they're under stress, for example._

_Yeah, because I take people's pulses all the time._ Annie wrote back sarcastically. _I'm so not sending you that photo._

Jane resisted the urge to laugh. _You should take people's pulses, Annie. They tell you a lot about a person. But the change in pulse was just an example. You can also watch their eyes. If they start blinking rapidly, they're probably lying. Or all of a sudden they can't look at you. Or, more likely, if all of a sudden they meet your eyes and stop blinking. Any change at all. Sometimes it's tone of voice, sometimes their voice shakes. Other fidget. You need to practice, and start noticing things._

_So there's not one single thing?_ Annie asked.

Jane shook his head. _Nope. Which is why it's hard to become a good liar. You have to be very aware of what you do when you're telling the truth, so that when you're lying, you don't change your behaviour._

_I'll keep that in mind,_ Annie told him.

_And you'll look around for that photo?_ Jane checked.

_You promise not to show it to anyone?_ Annie double-checked. _Because Aunt Reese would seriously kill me._

Jane smirked. _Oh, she would not. You know as well as I do that she's really just a big softie. But yes, I promise not to show it to anyone. You have my word._

_Unfortunately, I can't look to see if you're lying over text. I guess I'll just have to trust you._

_I guess you will_, Jane agreed.

_I'll find Dad's yearbooks when I get home. I've got to go._ Annie told him.

_Okay._ Jane texted back. _Don't forget your part of the deal._

He didn't receive a reply, but he hadn't been expecting one anyway.

xxx

A few hours later, Jane got another text. _Check your e-mail._

He looked around surreptitiously, glad that most people had left for the night. He booted up Van Pelt's computer and waited impatiently for the system to start. He logged into his e-mail account, ignoring the scores of unopened official-looking notifications and going straight to the message from Annie at the top of the list.

Jane ignored the threat to his person in the subject line if he dared break his promise and showed the contents of the e-mail to another living soul. Instead he opened the e-mail.

He waited impatiently as an image of a teenaged Teresa Lisbon appeared on the screen in front of him. Smiling, to himself as he examined it, he finally noticed Annie's assessment of the photo.

_Dear Mr. Jane,_

_Here's my end of the bargain. Don't forget your promise._

_Annie_

_P.S. Aunt Reese sure was pretty wasn't she?_

Jane turned his attention back to the face looking out at him from the screen. A younger Teresa Lisbon, her hair curling a little wildly around her shoulders was looking out at him, grabbing his attention. She may have been younger, definitely less sure of herself, definitely still guarded, but her eyes still held the same honesty, the same kind of hopeful sadness that he recognized instantly.

He smiled softly to himself.

Yes, Aunt Reese was very pretty indeed.

xxx

_Request #4: Jane's hug after Lisbon has a tough day._

xxx

Lisbon was upset.

She was trying to hide it, but she wasn't doing a particularly good job.

Which meant that she was very upset.

Jane didn't like it.

Obviously the case was getting to her. Jane wasn't sure exactly why. Obviously the case was tragic, a woman killed before her time, leaving a family behind her. That was always tragic. But most of their cases were. Jane wasn't sure why this one specifically was affecting Lisbon so much. He could make a guess, but that was all it would be. A guess.

And even his best guess wouldn't change the fact that Lisbon was upset.

Lisbon was upset and he didn't know what to do about it.

He'd been watching her closely for the last couple of days, and he could tell that she was only just keeping it all together. Not that Jane was worried about Lisbon losing it. She was strong, and she'd die before she let anyone see her break.

That was the problem. She could hurt herself. Not physically, nothing like that. But mentally, even emotionally.

He was also well aware what she'd do if he tried to approach her about it, even just to offer comfort.

Her walls would go up with a vengeance, and he'd be stuck on the outside, while she avoided him like the plague. At least now, if he kept his distance, she wouldn't view him as a threat.

Particularly since they were still working on the case.

Jane knew better than to approach her about anything personal while she was working.

Bad enough that he'd come close to intervening when the victim's jerk of a husband had the temerity to accuse her of being incompetent. Jane didn't care that it'd been the man's grief talking. All he'd cared about was the flash of fresh pain (and mortification) in Lisbon's eyes.

All that had stopped him from commenting was the knowledge of what she'd do to him if he had. (He knew just how good she could be at pushing people away if she wanted to.)

So, for now, he'd keep a careful eye on her, make sure she didn't push herself too hard, and he'd talk to her about it when they got home, or something.

He'd have to think very carefully about his approach, very carefully.

In the mean time, Jane was only too aware that the best thing he could do for Lisbon right now was to solve her damn case.

Nodding to himself, Jane went off in search of Cho. He might have an idea of how to do just that.

(His reward for his work was the relief in her eyes an hour later when he approached her with a smile and told her he had a plan.)

xxx

Jane leaned against the counter in the break room, sitting his tea.

Lisbon had been relieved when the case was solved. There was no question about that. He could practically sense the relief running off her during the drive home, at least for the first half of the drive. She'd slowly tensed up again as they approached the CBI.

He knew she'd gotten lost in her head again. And now she was wary about being confronted, so she'd holed up in her office. Jane still didn't want to push her, knew it wouldn't work.

But he couldn't leave things as they were. She obviously wanted to be alone, or thought she did at least. She thought that if she got upset it was somehow a sign of weakness, something to be exploited, or used against her.

He didn't want to use her pain against her. Didn't want to hurt her any more.

And he didn't want her to think she had to do everything by herself. (He was pretty sure she didn't want to, not really at least, whatever she told herself.)

Frustrated, Jane kicked his makeshift bed. He remembered the last time he'd been up in the attic, when she'd come to find him, to sort out a misunderstanding about a letter (or more accurately, a non-letter). She was so good at finding him when he was upset, even though she never seemed to realize how good she was.

Jane glanced to a drawer in the corner of the attic, one that hid a number of the letters she'd written to him over the past few weeks.

That was when inspiration hit him.

He knew Lisbon didn't want to talk, but she might just be comfortable enough to _read._

Fishing a pad of paper out from beneath his bed, Jane sat down and began to write.

x

_Dear Lisbon,_

_I know you don't want to talk to anyone, and that's fine. I'm not going to force you. You're certainly not obligated to, for any reason. Neither your performance nor your professionalism was affected in any way but what may or may not have been going through your mind. They never are. You don't have to worry about that. But I noticed that something was up, because well, you pay me to notice things. And I know you. _

_And while I'm not going to force you to talk, there is something I want to tell you. And I'm giving you the message in a way that's familiar to you, and that gives you all the control you want. Remember when we started this, and I mentioned that communicating by letter was different than other ways? It is, Teresa. We've both learned that. And we both know that only you can decide what to write down. You can do with this letter what you will. If you choose to do nothing, I won't mention it again. You have my word on that. And don't make a joke about how my word means nothing to you. We both know that's not true._

_But I do know that something's upset you, Teresa. I can see it. I know there's something you're holding in. You could tell me, you know. If you want to. You know I'd never tell anyone. You've certainly kept more of my secrets for longer than I care to think about. Besides, who would I have to tell? (That was an attempt at humour, Teresa, just in case it didn't come across the page.) Whatever you decide, you know where to find me. I'll listen (or read, or whatever you decide)._

_Your faithful correspondent,_

_Jane_

x

Carefully folding the letter, Jane wrote her name on the front and slipped out of the attic. He'd leave the letter on her desk for her to find.

He'd rather give her the note in person, so he could check up on her. But he didn't want her to feel like he was confronting her. He knew that it needed to be her choice to confide in him.

He hoped she did.

She was in pain, and he knew only too well what holding pain in could do to a person. Jane figured Lisbon'd done more than her fair share of holding things in. She needed to get some things out.

She did.

Jane was sure of it.

He needed to help her with that.

Because he was worried about her.

xxx

Jane had dropped off her letter on her desk. Lisbon had thankfully been updating Wainwright about the completed case and so he'd been able to slip into her office unnoticed.

He may not have given her the letter in person, but he knew she'd received it.

He was equally sure that she'd read it.

She'd shut all of the blinds in her office a few minutes ago.

Whatever she was doing, she wanted to be alone.

Jane hoped that she was writing a reply to his note, and not thinking up the quickest way to kill him and dispose of the body.

He settled in on his couch. He could wait her out. There was no way he was leaving the CBI before she did tonight.

Lisbon might not like it, but he'd do his best to look out for her.

She'd have to learn to live with that.

About twenty minutes later, Jane heard very determined footsteps walking towards him. Opening his eyes, he saw Lisbon stalking towards him, avoiding his eyes. She wasn't looking at his face, so she didn't seem him frown.

She just dropped a piece of paper on his chest and practically fled the building without so much as a backwards glance, let alone an explanation.

Jane resisted the urge to chase after her.

Instead, he sat up and unfolded the piece of paper in his lap, more than a little curious about its contents.

x

_Dear Jane,_

_I don't know why I'm telling you this. I really don't. You probably do though, infuriatingly. Please don't tell me. I really don't need the added aggravation right now. Before I start, I don't know what you normally do with my letters, but I don't suppose I could ask you to burn this one after you've read it? Taking care not to leave any charred corners of course... (My attempt at humour.) Or, if you don't want to do that, maybe you could just hide it really well, I'm sure you'd know a good spot._

_I... I don't know where to start. This case. This case was something. But then, I'm sure you already know that. And I'm sure you already know why. I'm not sure why you need me to tell you, actually. But then, I'm also not sure why I'm even writing this letter. Maybe it's a nervous breakdown. I don't care._

_You know the details of the case already. You were standing right there with the rest of us. Monica Willis, found dead in an alley. Shot to death, as it turns out by the town's local scumbag because she wouldn't succumb to his clumsy attempts at blackmail. A woman of principles, survived by her husband and her thirteen year old daughter, Christine. In fact, Monica was on her way back to Christine's school basketball games when she picked the wrong night to stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things. Especially since the stop lead to an unplanned detour thanks to the local criminal element._

_At least Christine went out for dinner with the team after their victory. Thank goodness for small mercies. At least she wasn't in the car with her mother. At least this way there weren't two bodies. You know, even though her daughter didn't need a ride home, Monica still went to the game. Because she never missed one of her daughter's games Jane. Not once. Not even if she didn't need to be there. That's the kind of parent she was. But that's not what Christine's going to remember from this. No matter how many times people tell her it's not her fault, no matter how true she knows that fact is, all that she's going to remember is that her mother was killed because she went to her basketball game. If there hadn't been a basketball game, her mother might not have been killed._

_I played basketball. My mother never missed a game either. Not one._

_On the other hand, I don't know if my father made it to a single one after she died. Maybe that's not fair. He was grieving too, and he wasn't used to dealing with it all. He used to take the boys to soccer more anyway, while my mother drove me to basketball._

_Afterwards, Tommy and Jim and Charlie tried. They went to some when they weren't busy. Cheered me on. Once they even made a sign. But they couldn't go to all of the games. They were growing up, had things of their own._

_I understood. Besides, that wasn't their job._

_Did you know that when the drunk driver hit her, she was buying popsicles for us? It was a family tradition, first weekend after school was out. We'd all grab one, and sit on the porch, and talk about what we were going to do over the summer, how we'd spend our vacations. The grape ones used to be my favourite. Now I still can't eat them._

_If we hadn't needed popsicles..._

_Logically, if we hadn't needed popsicles, she might have slipped and fallen down the stairs. You never know._

_Either way, I still hated this case._

_And that's it in a nutshell really. Do with it what you will. I don't want to talk about it anymore._

_-Lisbon_

x

By the time he got to the end of her letter, Jane realized that he was gripping the paper very tightly. He'd known, he'd always known, that Lisbon had significant guilt issues, and even more issues surrounding her mother's death. In a lot of ways she'd overcome all the things life had thrown her way, but in others...

Jane sighed.

He'd guessed her behaviour had something to do with her past, but he hadn't realized there was so close a connection to their last case.

Jane could imagine only too well what Lisbon was going through right now. He'd experienced it himself when the victim's families reminded him of his own, as they occasionally did.

Whenever that happened, Lisbon was always the one to come and find him. Or, even if she didn't come and find him, she was always the one who tried to offer comfort, however awkwardly.

Sometimes she made him tea. Sometimes she just sat with him. Other times she arrived with a distraction. But she was always _there._

Now he wanted to be there.

He didn't like the idea of Lisbon alone with her thoughts for the evening. After all, she was always telling him that brooding was unhealthy...

Jane had just made up his mind to chase after her when he remembered; he'd promised her he wouldn't force her to talk. Dropping back onto his couch with a huff, Jane realized he'd need a new approach. Suddenly he grinned.

Actually, he didn't need a new approach at all. He just needed to hone an existing one.

Pleased with his idea, Jane found another pad of paper and sat down to compose his second letter of the evening.

He'd told her he wouldn't force her to talk. Well, he'd keep that promise. He wouldn't say a single word.

xxx

Forty-five minutes later, Jane was standing outside of Lisbon's door. He'd already told himself several times that this was really the best thing for both of them, but he was still nervous.

After all, Lison'd had made it very clear that she didn't want to talk to anyone.

But, Jane reasoned, Lisbon also didn't really know what she wanted. She _had_ written him that letter. He as pretty sure that subconsciously Teresa Lisbon wanted someone to comfort her. Jane was more than willing to admit that he was probably the last person on the planet who should be doing the comforting, but someone needed to.

And he wanted to.

So here he was.

He hoped she didn't slam the door in his face.

Before he could talk himself out of his plan, Jane rang the doorbell.

Lisbon didn't slam the door when she opened it, possibly because she was shocked to see him. She'd obviously been trying to relax for the evening, put the case behind her, maybe even ignore it.

Jane examined her carefully. She looked incredibly wary. Wary, and vulnerable, and hopeful? Definitely terrified. Although, what she thought he'd do, Jane wasn't certain.

Jane ignored her obvious fear. He didn't say anything as he slipped around her into her apartment. What he had in mind wasn't exactly appropriate for her doorway, where all of her neighbours could see. Lisbon seemed to realize that as she awkwardly stepped to the side to let him in.

Jane held up his letter and heard her sigh in relief. Then, to his amusement, Jane watched her eyes cloud over in confusion when he set it on the table instead of handing it to her. He put a finger to his lips, motioning for her not to speak.

Before she could ask what the hell he was doing (in direct contravention to his request not to speak), Jane took two giant steps towards her and wrapped his arms around her.

Instantly, Lisbon froze in his arms, but Jane wasn't put off. He'd known this wouldn't be easy, when he'd come up with his little plan. He simply tightened his grip slightly, trying to let her know that he had no intention of going anywhere.

Finally, he felt her relax against him. A second later, Jane felt her wrap an arm around his neck, as she burrowed into his embrace. He began tracing encouraging circles against the small of her back, his heart thudding almost painfully when he heard her trying to contain her tears. Jane tightened his arms around her, trying to offer comfort in the only way he knew how.

Eventually Lisbon relaxed again. Jane moved to release her, sure that she was more than ready to get herself under control. To his utter shock, he heard a moan of protest just below his left ear, and felt her arms tighten around his waist again. Smiling against her hair, Jane shifted closer again, and re-tightened his hold on her. He felt her slowly relax in relief.

He couldn't help the surge of pleasure running through him. Lisbon was reaching out, or at the very least accepting comfort when it was offered. It was all very tentative of course, but she was still doing it. Jane'd been pretty sure when he'd gotten her letter that this was what she'd wanted (and been too frightened to ask), but it was nice to have it confirmed.

Jane squeezed her slightly without realizing it. He'd hold her for as long as she wanted. He wasn't doing anything that evening, not a thing. Lisbon needed a hug, that was the important thing. (Apparently she really needed one.)

Jane breathed in, enjoying the faint smell of her shampoo. This was nice. Maybe he should start some sort of regular hugging regimen with Lisbon. It might be good for both of them. After all, the hugs always made him feel better. He was pretty sure they had a similar effect on her.

A few seconds later, Jane felt her loosen her grip around his waist and start to move away. Regretfully, Jane loosened his hold on her in response.

He found her eyes, her expression suddenly shy. Still, at least she was meeting his eyes now without fear, and without regret. He searched her eyes for another minute. She genuinely looked better (not that she'd looked _bad_ before, but...). She was more relaxed. Jane grinned, and watched her tilt her head to the side, obviously trying to figure out what was going on in his head.

His smile widened and he placed his finger to his lips again.

His visit wasn't meant for talking after all. Instead, he simply tapped the letter that he'd left for her on her coffee table, reached out to squeeze her arm one last time, and slipped out of her apartment quietly.

With a final glance back at her door, Jane strode back to his car, where yet another letter was now particularly carefully hidden (it hadn't felt right to burn it for some reason, even if he would respect her wishes and make sure it was hidden where no one would ever find it).

He hoped the reply he'd left her would ease her mind.

She might have looked better when he'd left her, but she could still use a good night's sleep.

x

_Dear Teresa,_

_I can assure you that no eyes but yours or mine will ever see your letter, though I can also assure you that if they did, the consequences wouldn't be as bad as you're imagining._

_I'm sorry this case has opened up old wounds. I'm not going to tell you that you're strong, that you'll persevere, that you'll get through it. We both know that you already have, and you will continue to do so. But I am sorry that today something caused you pain. I hope you feel a little better. _

_Now do me a favour, would you? Just one. Go to bed. Right now. Try and get some sleep. Take it from an occasional insomniac, it can work wonders._

_And if you need me, you know where I am. Not that you will, but just so you know._

_-Patrick_

x

The next morning, Jane was sure to be as normal as possible. He deliberately didn't mention the extended hug the evening before.

Lisbon may have been more comfortable with him, but she was in no way ready to talk about it. If Jane was honest, he wasn't either.

Still, he wanted to keep an eye on her. Make sure she was still okay. He didn't care if she liked it; he had no intention of asking her opinion anyway.

Instead, he wordless walked into her office and dropped onto her couch. If she asked, he'd just tell her it was more comfortable, or something.

"Well, good morning to you too," she said after a moment.

Jane almost smiled (she was rather predictable), but he caught himself just in time. "Good morning, Lisbon. I thought I'd sleep on your couch today."

"Oh did you?" she asked, Jane could hear the defensiveness in her voice. He kept his answer deliberately casual..

"Mmhm," Jane confirmed. Before Lisbon could reply, he continued, a sudden inspiration striking. "You did say you wanted me to tell you if I wasn't sleeping well," he reminded her.

The implication had the desired effect. Immediately she softened. "Is your insomnia back?" she asked gently, Jane nearly winced when he heard the hint of guilt in her voice. She was obviously worried that this was her fault. Oh well, not much he could do about that now. Even if he denied it, she wouldn't believe him. Better to just take advantage of the opportunity and keep an eye on her. "Is it because... Is there anything I can do?"

Jane let himself smile and deliberately side-stepped the question. "Just let me sleep on your couch, Lisbon," he told her. "You're team's taking bets on how many wads of paper they can toss in the trash cans out there. It's way more peaceful in here."

"Of course you can stay," she said indulgently. "As long as you let me get my paperwork done."

"Certainly," Jane agreed. He just wanted to keep an eye on her. He could let her get her work done, if she insisted on that. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she murmured.

So stay Jane did. In fact, he spent the better part of the day in her office. To his surprise, Lisbon didn't seem to mind his presence, especially since she had to know that he was watching her. She wasn't a stupid woman after all. The implications of that pleased him. It seemed that Teresa Lisbon was getting used to the idea of him looking out for each other.

Choosing to take that as progress, Jane decided to take a cat nap.

When he woke up a little while later, Lisbon's office was dark. He realized that she'd left for the night. But, she'd also left him a note.

x

_Dear Jane,_

_Sleep well._

_And thank you._

_Love Lisbon_

_P.S. Movie on Saturday?_

X

Grinning to himself, Jane stood and stretched, making a mental note to check the show times.

xxx

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Seriously guys, did you coordinate your scene requests? Because you got really good coverage of the second half of this fic. I am just saying. It is kind of impressive. Anyway, here are the next few requests. This is where they start really overlapping. And, true to form, the chapters are getting ridiculously long. This is unsurprising.

_Request #5: Red John's death (including Jane's thoughts when Lisbon stepped in front of Red John and when he decided to leave the CBI)_

xxx

Jane was getting desperate.

He'd been tied to the pole for the better part of half an hour while Red John stood just inside his line of sight, taunting him. He needed to get free. He needed to get to the gun in his pocket.

He was sure he had the right Red John this time. Absolutely sure. This time there would be no imposter, no brief hope that the nightmare was really over. This time it was real.

Or it would be, if only he could get to the gun in his pocket.

He was so close.

Red John had tied his hands just tightly enough to restrain him, but not so tightly that he couldn't move. It was infuriating. Just as it was infuriating that after all of Jane's careful planning, he'd ended up tied to a pole. He'd hesitated for barely a second, wondering if he should have waited for Lisbon, and that momentary pause had been his downfall. Now he was tied to a pole. Jane glared venomously at the man standing opposite him.

He might have been restrained, but he wasn't dead yet.

Jane tried not to wince as he felt the ropes cut into his wrist as he worked furiously to get them free. It was worth the pain though. He could feel one hand getting slowly looser.

Every second brought him closer.

Jane watched the serial killer's eyes, never looking away from the man he'd been chasing for years now. One of them wouldn't leave the warehouse alive. Jane was going to do everything in his power to make sure it was Red John's body on the floor at the end of the day.

He twisted his wrist to get better leverage, trying his best not to react to Red John's taunts.

He needed to focus on the task, quite literally, at hand.

Then, to Jane's horror, another (not quite unexpected) distraction made itself, or rather _herself_, known.

"George Wallis?" Lisbon called, stepping out from behind a box she'd obviously been hiding behind, her gun raised and steady. "This is Agent Teresa Lisbon of the CBI. We've the building surrounded. I need you to put the gun down."

Jane felt his heart skitter in his chest as he momentarily stilled. Then he started struggling against he ropes with renewed vigour. He needed to... He needed to be free. Lisbon...

Red John turned towards her, an oddly calm look on his face, still pointing his gun at Jane. "Ah, Agent Lisbon, at last. I've wanted to meet you in person for quite some time now."

"Put the gun down, Mr. Wallis," she repeated quietly, walking forward slowly.

Red John smiled. "Oh, no need for such formality. You're more than welcome to call me by another name. You do know who I am, don't you Teresa?"

Lisbon's heart was pounding, but she kept her steps slow and steady. "So you are Red John then?" she asked calmly.

George's smile widened and panic started to creep through Jane. "I am," the serial killer confirmed.

Lisbon shrugged deliberately. Even near in his near panic, Jane had to admire her poise. "We've heard that before, from someone else."

"What can I say? I was thinking about retiring. I thought I'd let a friend deliver that message to Patrick for me," Red John explained. "Unfortunately for poor Timothy, Patrick here had other plans for my golden years."

Jane growled to himself. _Of course_ he'd had other plans for Red John's golden years. Half the population of the state of California probably did. Wanting to kill a vicious serial killer didn't make Jane unique.

"Don't you dare pin this on him," Lisbon growled.

Red John grinned again and Jane's heart gave another painful thud. It was a sick, horrible sight. All three of them knew that Red John wished Teresa Lisbon far from well. It'd crossed Jane's mind more than once that Red John's idea of a perfect punishment for him might involve watching Lisbon in pain, or worse. Mostly he tried not to think about it, something that the serial made extremely difficult. Still ignoring Jane, Red John continued his conversation with Lisbon, both of them still completely calm, at least outwardly. "Extraordinarily protective, aren't you Agent Lisbon. I'll warrant it led you to show yourself earlier than you planned to. Am I right?" Red Jon observed.

"Lisbon!" Jane called, desperately trying to insert himself into the conversation. He needed to keep Red John's attention on him, his gun pointed at him. And he needed to free his _damn_ hands... The ropes were really chafing now.

Apparently Lisbon had other plans for how the evening was going to go though. "Shut up Jane!" she snapped. Jane realized she was equally determined to keep Red John's attention on herself. Another minute and his hand would be free and he could...

"Giving him orders, huh," Red john asked. "I suppose that's your right. Mr. Jane is on your team. How's that been going for you, _Agent_ Lisbon?"

"We close a lot of cases," she replied evenly, completely unfazed.

Try as he might, Jane couldn't help being interested in the conversation going on in front of him.

Red John nodded. "You do, and you work so smoothly together too. Quite a fascinating _partnership_ you have going on, Agent Lisbon. It almost makes me sad for what's going to happen next, but really I have no choice. It's only a matter of time before Patrick manages to reach his gun, and well, after what happened to poor Timothy, I'm certainly not willing to risk _that._"

"Put the gun down, George," Lisbon said slowly. "Just put it down. Put it down and we can go back to the CBI and talk about all this."

Red John sighed. "You don't actually think I'm going to be satisfied with _talking_, do you Agent? I'm getting so tired of it all. I thought I could stop a few years ago. I really did. Possibly the only error I've made in years. The power you feel when kill someone, it's... well, you'd know I suppose. I'm sure you've taken a life."

"Not like you have," Lisbon said calmly. "Not slowly, not after bludgeoning someone over the head and cutting them up with a knife."

"No, I suppose you were merciful," Red John murmured. "At least you thought you were. You probably even think it's necessary. I'd agree with you Agent Lisbon. Death _is _necessary."

"Lisbon!" Jane called frantically, suddenly realizing what was going to happen, what Lisbon was obviously trying to do. His irritation and panic rising even further when once again, she ignored him.

"Death is inevitable, murder on the other hand," Lisbon replied. "Now, I'll ask you one more time, put the gun down."

Red John smiled and Jane suddenly went cold. He realized there was no way he'd get free in time to change anything. All he could do was watch, and listen to a maniac threaten his partner.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Teresa," Red John said with mock regret. "I'm well aware that I'll almost certainly die today. It's just a question of who goes with me. And I've decided that I'd rather like Patrick to see this."

Quick as a flash he turned his gun on Lisbon.

Jane felt his heart literally stop, but only for a second. Because Lisbon took that same second to fire her own gun, without hesitation, and without a second thought.

Jane heard two other bullets fire almost immediately after. One, obviously from Red John's gun, hit the stack of boxes a foot to Lisbon's left. A second struck the serial killer before he even had a chance to fall to the ground. Obviously another member of the team, Jane couldn't be sure who, but based on the angle and difficulty of the shot, he'd guess Cho.

Jane gave up on the ropes around his wrists. They seemed pointless now anyway. Lisbon had... she'd...

She was still standing.

And Red John was dead.

She'd killed him.

She'd _killed_ him.

With that, his brain seemed to freeze. Jane was vaguely aware of Lisbon and her team examining the body, having some sort of conversation about self-defence, trying to take stock. Jane found he didn't care. Didn't care in the slightest. George Wallis, Red John, was dead.

Nothing else mattered.

Then, suddenly, Lisbon was right in front of him.

She looked simultaneously relieved and concerned. It was quite the feat, part of Jane's brain pointed out. The rest of his brain still wasn't capable of pointing out anything.

He turned his attention back to the body in the centre of the warehouse.

"Jane," Lisbon murmured, her hands immediately moving to the ropes binding his hands, finishing the job he hadn't been able to. (The small functioning part of his brain almost laughed at the irony.)

He didn't answer her.

"Patrick," she said again, a little more loudly.

Jane turned instinctively, now staring at her as intently as he'd been staring at Red John's body as she finally freed his hands. She was breathing. She was here. Red John had tried to kill her, but... They may as well have been the only two people in the warehouse. Her team were keeping their distance. Jane couldn't blame them.

"You okay?" Lisbon asked softly, her voice shaking for the first time all evening.

"I..." Jane shook out his wrists, glancing at the red marks on them. He wasn't okay. He didn't know what he was, but whatever it was, it was so far from _okay..._

Lisbon ran her thumb over one of the rope burns on his wrists He flinched at the contact. "We'll get that looked at in a minute," she promised him.

He shook his head. He didn't want to be _looked at. _He didn't want to go to the hospital and examined like some kind of science project. He just wanted... he needed... he needed to leave. He started glancing around, searching for a way out. "It's fine," he assured her. "I'll be fine."

"You sure?" she asked. "You've had kind of a rough day."

Jane was about to answer, when he was distracted by the sudden arrival of the coroner and other law enforcement personnel. But he wasn't distracted for long, "You shot him," Jane said dully. He had to give her that. She'd gotten the job done, and rather neatly too. He'd known immediately what she was after. "You shot him. You got his attention, and you kept it. And you waited until... until it was definitely self defence. Until there was no question. Then you just _shot_ him."

Lisbon took a deep , obviously deciding what to say. Jane wondered briefly if she'd try to lie to him. Then she surprised him with the blunt truth. "I couldn't do another trial, Jane. I just couldn't."

Jane turned back towards her, his eyes suddenly focussed on hers. He examined her face, saw an odd mix of regret and determination. And he knew. This had always been her plan, this or something like it. She'd always told him she was going to stop him, to help him. Her shot had been self-defence alright. There was a bullet that'd gone barely a foot wide buried in the wall to back up her story (_a foot, _only a _foot)_. Yes, Teresa Lisbon had known exactly what she was doing. In a way Jane was impressed. "I understand," he said after a second. He did. Lisbon would rather put herself in danger than let anyone else do it. And he'd have been in quite some danger if he'd gone to trial. Or if she'd left him to his fate.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Do you?"

"Yes," Jane whispered with a nod. "That must have been difficult for you the first time," deciding to ignore the rest of it for the time being.

Lisbon shrugged, "Not to mention, you've already told a jury you shot Red John. Only so many times that's going to work."

"I probably would have gone to prison," Jane agreed. He would have, not that it mattered.

"I couldn't do another trial," Lisbon repeated softly.

Jane glanced at the body that was now being loaded onto a gurney. He gritted his teeth. "I... I have to think." He needed to get away. He needed to get away now.

She'd taken his revenge. She'd taken...

Part of him wanted to grab her and reassure himself that that bullet really had gone a foot wide.

Another part wanted to shake her. Or yell. Or, or... or make her feel half of what he was feeling right now.

He was the closest to hating her that he'd ever been. He was also...

He needed to not be near her. _Now._

Lisbon's face fell. Jane told himself he didn't care. "Okay," she whispered.

Jane's head whipped around as the beginnings of anger began to seep out. Oh, she was fine with it, was she? Perfectly fine? _Of course she was._ She'd probably expected it. She'd known long ago this would happen. She'd had it all planned out. She'd had her own agenda all along. "That's all? Just okay?"

Lisbon shrugged helplessly. Jane knew instinctively that she didn't regret a thing. "What else is there? I don't regret it. I'm glad he's dead."

Jane closed his eyes briefly. It would have been so much easier if he'd shot the serial killer. If it had been all him, alone. If she hadn't been involved. If... "Me too."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"We can talk more after you've thought?" Lisbon suggested hopefully.

Jane felt an unexpected flash of pain. Because he knew immediately that they wouldn't be talking after.

Because he wouldn't be coming back.

xxx

Jane stuck around just long enough to give a statement. He had no intention of being chased down by a bunch of police officers for some sort of bureaucratic nonsense.

He slipped away as soon as he could.

He got into his car and drove, only stopping to grab his things from his hotel room before going on his way.

He needed to leave Sacramento. He needed to be alone. He needed to...

He couldn't see her. He couldn't.

She'd taken the one thing from him that he'd had to live for. She'd _taken_ it. He hated her. (And he missed her.)

He couldn't talk to her. Couldn't deal with her. (Couldn't see the pain in her eyes.)

So he drove north. Exhaling in relief when he saw the Sacramento lights disappear behind him.

He'd go where he didn't have to talk to anyone.

Especially her.

Jane glanced at his glove compartment, the one that knew was stuffed full of letters. He turned away quickly, didn't want to think about it. He'd never write to her again. He'd never get another reply.

He'd never slip another note into her pocket and see her smile when he did it.

He'd never learn something completely unexpected about her from some casual comment in one of her notes.

He'd never learn anything more about her at all.

Somehow that was worst of all.

But he couldn't talk to her. He was so angry at her. He still wanted to... Oh, he wanted to hurt her. As thoroughly as she'd destroyed him. His goal. All he'd had was his goal.

He couldn't talk to her.

If he said half of the things going through his head out loud then she'd never forgive him, and then he'd never... she'd never...

He couldn't talk to her.

Jane pulled into a hole in the wall motel at the side of the road, his eyes straying back to the glove compartment against his will.

He took a deep breath.

He couldn't talk to her, but maybe, just maybe he could write.

x

_Dear Teresa,_

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. I'm sorry that I didn't call. I couldn't._

_I didn't want to just disappear. I really didn't. My goal wasn't to hurt you. But I just couldn't stay._

_I couldn't. You've always deserved better than me, Teresa. I'm dangerous to be around. _

_You might be the best friend I've ever had in my entire life. I don't know why I'm telling you that. I don't know what my life is anymore, without him to chase. He's gone. You made sure of that. And it was really him this time. You destroyed him. He wanted you to. Or at least, he wanted someone to. Probably not you. He wanted to take you with him. You, then me. Unfortunately for George Wallis, aka. Red John, you're quicker on the draw._

_You nearly took the bullet meant for me._

_If you had... If he'd gotten someone else... I need to get away. I need to stop bringing disaster around with me. I need to figure out what's left, if anything. And you can't be there. Because if you were, oh Teresa, I shudder to think of what I might say to you now if I saw you. My mind can be a dark and dangerous place, as you know only too well. I can't subject either of us to that right now._

_You did your job. And you did it well. My way of doing things always did go against the grain._

_Please don't worry about me. Or try not to at least. I'll try to write periodically, to let you know that I'm okay. Besides, I've kind of gotten in the habit of writing you letters._

_I'm not going to give you a return address though. I think the temptation would be too great for you. You'd just show up on my doorstep, and I can't have that. I need time. I need to sort through what's left of my brain, of my sanity. Besides, I won't have a return address to send. I think I'll keep moving for a while. Maybe see the small towns of California when they're not tainted by murder._

_We've been following death around for years Teresa, and I need to stop. I was never solving crimes for the same reason you were. I'm not that good a person._

_For that I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry._

_I will write. I promise._

_Until next time,_

_Love Jane_

x

xxx

_Request #6: Jane getting all of Lisbon's letters that she left him, including Pete and Sam's in more detail, combined with Request #7: Jane going into general delivery and asking for letters_

xxx

Jane was driving aimlessly down the side roads of northern California, not looking for anything in particular, not looking for anything at all really. Just something. He'd gotten tired of wandering around town by himself, and had decided to get in his car. Maybe it was time to visit somewhere new.

But he wasn't in any particular hurry to get to a new town either.

He was lonely. His family was gone. The CBI was gone. His team was gone. Lisbon was gone (when he'd gotten stuck in his head before, she'd always been the one to distract him out of himself).

Even Red John was gone.

Admittedly, Jane was happy about that last one. He genuinely was, but there was nothing to replace it with. All he had now was this huge gaping emptiness inside him and an overwhelming feeling that he'd failed.

Being constantly confronted with the petty worries and nearly insignificant concerns of the denizens of small town California had gotten to be too much all of a sudden. So he'd taken to the side roads.

Now it was too quiet. All he was left with were his own thoughts.

Jane found he almost missed the pointless chatter of the small town family restaurant where he'd eaten that morning.

Clearly he needed a new distraction.

He turned onto the main road, with some vague idea of finding the next pointless distraction. That was when he saw the sign, "State Fair, Ten miles."

Jane smiled in pure relief. As distractions went, that one would do nicely.

xxx

Putting on his friendliest smile, Jane approached Pete and Sam's trailer.

After receiving a greeting involving a bear hug, two threats, and innumerable insults, he was ushered inside.

Sam immediately put on a pot of tea (for which Jane was silently grateful), while Pete simply sat down across from him and stared at him like he'd magically appeared from the ether. Jane exchanged pleasantries with Sam while Pete continued to watch him, shaking his head.

Jane was about to ask the other man what on earth was wrong with him, when Pete grinned suddenly, "Huh. So you did show up."

Jane frowned. He was about to reply (or demand what Pete was talking about) when Sam walked over with a pair of teacups. "Don't it just beat all? Makes you wonder, don't it?" she asked with a sideways look at Jane.

"Mmhm." Pete replied, still grinning superiorly.

Jane found himself feeling more and more lost. All he'd wanted was a little conversation, maybe drop in, say hi. A break, a distraction. Instead he'd wandered into a weird little situation where Pete and Sam had some sort of secret that he was just supposed to, he didn't know... _guess._ But without any idea of context or subject or really anything at all. Jane was good at uncovering the truth, but he wasn't _that_ good. Besides, Pete and Sam were pretty damn good at hiding their tells.

Jane tried a superior smile. "Alright, have you two been drinking Frankie's homemade whiskey again? Because you know what that does to your brain, right?"

Sam grinned. "Aww... feeling a little lost are we, Patty?" she asked.

Jane ignored Pete's chuckle. "Hard to feel lost when you don't even know what planet people are on," he shot back. "Now, you gonna tell me what the hell you're talking about, or are you just going to sit there smirking at me?"

Sam grinned.

"It's a tempting idea, Patty," Pete said, attempting to be serious. "It's a rare enough sight to see you floundering."

Jane scowled. "And here I was thinking I 'd drop by for a nice visit with some old friends, and _this _is the treatment I get. I _thought_ I'd do the polite thing, maybe try to be social, but if this is where it gets me..."

Jane watched as Sam glanced at Pete with a smirk. He shrugged. Wordlessly, she stood walked back into the kitchen and fished something out from behind the refrigerator. "We have a message for you," she said with the same false gravity as Pete and handed Jane an envelope.

Jane frowned again. Danny. It had to be Danny after all. Probably in some kind of trouble that he expected to be gotten out of. Never mind that Jane might have a few of his own problems from time to time, never mind... Jane's mental rant stalled when he caught a glimpse of the handwriting on the front of the envelope.

Lisbon.

It was a letter from _Lisbon._

He realized too late that he'd done the world's worst job of hiding his surprise.

"Guess we gotta hand it to little Pepper," Pete said cheerfully. "She sure has your number, Patty."

Jane glanced up sharply, his heart beating more quickly. Pete'd spoken to Lisbon. He'd seen her. She'd come to visit. Whatever she wanted was important enough that she'd driven across the state to try and get the message to him. Jane resisted the urge to ask how she'd looked.

"She's something alright," Sam agreed quietly.

Jane glanced over to find her examining him closely. "You have something to say, Sam?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nope," she replied. "Not me. Except maybe that I think you've gotten even stupider than the last time I saw you."

Jane leaned back in his chair, unwilling to confirm or deny that statement. "Y'know, we really don't see enough of each other, Sammy."

She smirked. "You think you'd look better on balance if we did?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Doubtful," Sam murmured.

Jane grinned in spite of himself. "It's good to see you, Sam."

She smiled back briefly before gesturing to the letter. "I assume you know what that is."

Jane blinked, staring at the letter in his hands. Lisbon's letter. He hadn't been sure he'd ever get another one. "I recognize the handwriting," he admitted, his voice low.

Sam was watching him closely. "Thought you might."

Something in her tone made Jane look up quickly, guiltily. "It's not what it looks like," he insisted.

"Mmhm," she said, eyebrow raised.

Jane decided to just ignore her. He'd learned long ago that arguing with Sam rarely ended well for him. Besides, it wasn't something he wanted to even try to explain. Instead, he turned his attention back to his letter. Something caught his eye. "The seal of this letter doesn't look like it was steamed open and re-glued," he observed, more than a little surprised by that fact.

"That's because it wasn't," Sam told him, managing to convey with her tone that she thought his observation a little idiotic.

Jane hastened to defend his position. "You had it in your possession for what I assume was a minimum of a week or two and you didn't steam it open?" He asked sceptically.

"Didn't need to, Patty," Pete informed him.

That confused Jane. "What?"

Sam grinned. "Your state trooper told us what was inside herself."

Jane scowled at her tone, "She's not _my_ state trooper."

"Well, she's certainly not _mine_," Sam couldn't resist pointing out.

Jane considered that. "I guess not," he said eventually. Then he held up the letter. "So, you know what this says."

The woman across from him nodded, her tone superior. "Mmhm."

"Oh," he replied inadequately. He really didn't know what else to say to that.

"Why? Do you not want the letter?" Sam asked curiously.

Jane's grip tightened automatically (possessively) on the envelope in his hand. "Of course I want the letter! Why wouldn't I want…"

"That's what I thought," Sam said with a nod, interrupting Jane's babbling.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Jane demanded.

Sam met his eyes, and gave it to him straight. Just like she always had (unless she was trying to con him of course). "Just that you're a damn fool, Patrick Jane."

"Possibly," Jane agreed easily. "But I don't know what brought that observation on _today._.."

"Yeah, you do. After all, it's clear to anyone with eyes in their head..." Sam countered.

"Something you seem to have lost recently," Pete interjected cheerfully, still sitting back and watching the show.

Sam continued, ignoring the interruption and picking up where she'd left off. "... that you want to read that letter in your hand more than you want to talk to the likes of us."

Suddenly Pete stood. Jane stood with him out of habit and let himself be led to the door. "You keep in touch now, Patrick!" Pete said, clapping him on the arm.

"Yeah, thanks for this guys," he murmured awkwardly, still unsure of what to say. There was no explaining really. They wouldn't understand. How could they? "And thanks for the tea."

"Drop by if your travels bring you our way again, you hear?" Sam ordered.

"I will," Jane promised them as he headed towards his faithful car, trying to sort out what on earth had just happened.

He waved to Sam and Pete as he got into the Citroen, and pulled away from the trailer, his head spinning.

Lisbon had sent him a letter.

He had a letter from Lisbon.

He glanced at the letter sitting on the passenger seat beside him. It was really there.

Jane made sure he was well out of sight of the fairgrounds before he pulled over.

Then he ripped into the envelope beside him, impatient to hear from her.

x

_Dear Jane,_

_I hope you're doing alright. You seem to be based on your letters. I'm glad. I hope you don't mind my writing to you. I know you need time to yourself, to sort things out and I'm in no way trying to encroach on that, I swear._

_I just... I just want to write you a letter from time to time. That's all. I'm not asking you for an address. I'm well aware that you won't have a steady one. And I'm not trying to force you to read anything I write. I do hope that you get this letter. I have no way of knowing if you will. But if you do, and you want me to write to you, keep including the town you're staying in at the top of your letters. If you abruptly stop, I'll know what that means and I won't try to contact you again._

_But if you do want to read a letter from me from time to time, check General Delivery at the main post office when you get to a new town. If we're lucky, maybe I'll hit one on your random route. If not, well, at least I'll have tried. _

_It's like you said, I've gotten used to writing these letters. I'd like to continue. I hope you don't mind._

_-Lisbon_

x

Jane grinned in spite of himself.

She wanted to write him letters.

He'd thought she was gone, but here she was, sort of.

He tried to make sense of it all. Tried to sort it out in his head, but only one thought was clear in his mind.

He needed to write her back. _Now._

Which meant that he needed to find a place to sit down.

And while he was at it, he may as well check the local post office.

Just in case.

xxx

Jane managed to locate the Cloverdale post office with very little trouble. The fact that it was on the main street across from the bank (actually, across from several banks) certainly helped. He got out of his Citroen and walked in, refusing to get too excited. After all, he didn't even know if Lisbon had started writing yet. It would make far more sense for her to wait a few weeks to see if he'd gotten the letter she'd written him.

Although, she had said she wanted to write the letters for herself too.

So maybe she _had _started.

Jane decided that she probably had. That would be just like her. Stubborn, determined, Lisbon.

Still, even _if_ she _was_ writing, there had to be thousands of post offices in California. The chances that he was at the right one were miniscule. (Even if he had included cities in his letters, which would give her a general geographical area).

Still... The chances were almost zero.

He needed to remember that.

Jane walked up to the desk and smiled at the college student standing behind it. That was when he realized he wasn't entirely sure how one inquired after letters sent to general delivery.

Mentally shrugging, Jane decided to just jump right in. "Good afternoon, Marjorie" he said with his most charming smile, reading the woman's nametag. "I don't suppose you got any letters for Patrick Jane sent to general delivery?"

The woman raised her eyebrows briefly, confirming to Jane that his request was indeed an unexpected one. Still, it seemed he was at least in the right place, because after a second she answered. "I'll have to check in the back."

"Of course," Jane agreed cheerfully. Shooting him another odd look, Marjorie walked into the back room.

Jane tried very hard not to fidget.

A few minutes later Marjorie returned looking very surprised, but not empty handed.

Jane's face split into an enormous grin. She _had_ written to him. And she'd found him. He hadn't given her enough credit. Maybe he never gave her enough credit. Clever, clever Lisbon.

"Did you say Patrick Jane?" Marjorie asked him, causing Jane to turn his attention away from mentally extolling Lisbon's virtues and back to the task at hand.

"Yes," he agreed, reaching instinctively for the letter. He could already make out Lisbon's handwriting on the front.

But Marjorie pulled it out of his reach. "I'll need to see some ID first," she told him condescendingly.

Jane was too happy to mind her tone. He obediently fished his driver's license out of his wallet and showed it to a highly critical Marjorie. He'd have admired her work ethic, but really, he didn't see why she was treating him like a complete lunatic. Just because he was excited to get a letter from a friend...

Still, his license seemed to pass Marjorie's inspection. She handed it back to him, along with his letter. "There you go, Mr. Jane. Have a nice day."

"You too, Marjorie," he told her. "You too."

Then, once back in the safety of his car, Jane tore open his second letter of the day.

x

_Dear Jane,_

_I'm trying this out, seeing how it goes. I know that the chances that you get this letter are slim, but I'm going to try anyway. Because I'm used to writing to you too. If you don't get this letter, you don't get it. I'm still determined to try._

_I was away on a case this morning. I won't tell you the details, since I know you want to take a break from all of that. Quite frankly, I'm perfectly fine with declaring these letters a murder-free zone. _

_However, the fact that I was away on a case this morning means that I too had breakfast at a diner. I didn't order eggs though. I got the fruit salad and the yoghurt. I'm sure that's not a surprise to you. I'm not always a big eater in the mornings, and I don't like all the grease. Deal with it. Rigsby and Cho both got the scrambled eggs though. They seemed to enjoy them. Van Pelt got pancakes, in case you're interested._

_I actually just got home about fifteen minutes ago. It's pretty late. Finding your letter was a nice surprise. I hope that you're doing alright. It sounds like you are. I'm glad. And I'm glad that you're still writing to me. I hope it's okay that I'm writing back (or at least trying to). If it's not, I don't have to. Or... well, you don't have to go pick the letters up. I may write them anyway. Like I said, I'm used to it._

_Things are definitely quieter at work now that you're cruising around California. I guess that means we're both getting a little peace and quiet!_

_Seriously Jane, I hope you're doing as well as your letters imply. If you're not, you could tell me. You know I'm here._

_Optimistically hoping you get this,_

_-Lisbon_

x

Jane's heart was beating fast again by the time he reached the end of his letter.

She'd really written to him. His Lisbon.

She wasn't gone.

Not completely.

He still had her letters. _Oh._

Jane fingered the corners of his letter absent-mindedly.

Now he really needed to write back.

He glanced up and down the street, searching for a coffee shop. Five minutes later, he was inside, sitting at a table, a cup of tea beside him and a piece of paper and a pen in front of him.

He'd thought it would be difficult, writing to her. His head was still full of confusion, and loneliness, and anger, and loss, and about a million other things that Jane didn't even know how to identify.

But her letters were just so, so... _Lisbon._ It was like she was still keeping an eye on him, albeit from farther away. He'd missed her. He hadn't realized how much until he'd read her letters, but...

He wasn't sure he could have had an actual conversation. But writing a letter was easy.

Letter-writing really was a unique form of communication.

With a smile on his face, Jane began writing, his tea all but forgotten beside him.

x

_Cloverdale, California,_

_Dear Teresa,_

_A funny thing happened to me today. I was driving along, and I happened to see signs for the county fair. Then I heard a little voice in my head telling me that it was important to connect with people, to maintain old friendships, and isolating yourself from absolutely everyone wasn't healthy (it shouldn't surprise you to learn that this voice sounded suspiciously like yours, Teresa). So I thought, what the heck? What's the harm? I'm passing through. I know people here. I should probably at least drop in and say hello. Worst case scenario, it results in a second slap to the face._

_So, I pulled up to Pete and Sam's trailer, swaggered up to the door with a grin and knocked. Figured I'd give them a bit of a surprise, you see._

_Sam opened the door and managed to look absolutely shocked to see me while simultaneously looking like it was exactly what she expected. I originally didn't read too much into it. That's just Sam, you see, Teresa. Then Pete walked over, and I was greeted with, "Huh. So you did show up."_

_Now that puzzled me a little, I'll admit. Particularly when Sam looked at him and said, "Don't it just beat all? Makes you wonder, don't it?"_

"_Mmhm." Pete replied, grinning at me superiorly._

_That was when I started to get a little irritated. Usually I'm the one who likes to grin at people in a superior manner, as you well know. But I'm not wild about being on the receiving end of that kind of treatment. So I did what any sensible person would do in my situation. I demanded to know what the hell they were talking about._

_Pete and Sam shared a look that could only be described as an amused smirk. They invited me in; then Sam wandered into the other room and fished something out from beside the refrigerator. "We have a message for you," she told me with false gravity, handing me an envelope._

_Given the source of the letter, I was expecting news from Danny. Imagine my surprise when I saw whose handwriting was actually on the front of the envelope I held in my hand. Even Pete picked up on my surprise, to his overwhelming satisfaction. That made the whole situation still more irritating._

"_Guess we gotta hand it to little Pepper," Pete said, still grinning foolishly. "She sure has your number, Patty."_

_Now, at this point I would like to interject Teresa, just what on earth did you do that you managed to win over poor Pete so completely? Poor helpless Pete. He never stood a chance against you, did he? You must tell me your secret. I'd have thought handcuffing to his own truck would be a permanent black mark on your name, but apparently not. You certainly charmed him. It later became obvious that even Sam was willing to tolerate you, at least as my friend, which is, quite frankly, nothing short of a miracle._

_Sam agreed with Pete that you were something, only pausing to add some less than complimentary remarks about yours truly, particularly my level of intelligence. But that's nothing new. Then we all sat down to our visit. It wasn't long. I was really only dropping by, after all. And the three of us don't have all that much in common anymore. I drank a cup of tea, passed my regards on to Danny, and then I headed on my way. I planned to get to Cloverdale by the evening, find my usual motel. Course, I only got a few kilometres away from Pete and Sam's before curiosity got the better of me and I had to pull over on the side of the road._

_After all, what on earth would be worth your driving all over the state just to tell yours truly? _

_Oh, Teresa…_

_I'm not going to lie to you, your suggestion wasn't at all what I was expecting your letter to say. Not in the slightest. But, you foolish woman. You foolish, foolish woman. Of course I'd like to receive your letters. Of course I'll check general delivery at any town I happen to pass through. It'll be a bit hit and miss of course, but I'm certainly willing to give it a shot, if you're willing to take the time to write letters you have no guarantee will ever get to me. I suppose, in hindsight, that this whole arrangement was a little selfish of me (not that that type of behaviour from me should surprise you). After all, I can write to you, but you couldn't respond. It's not particularly fair, is it? _

_I just couldn't think of a way around that. I need to be alone. And I need the freedom to come and go as I please. Not that you ever tried to stop me, but… I just, I'm not in place where I can arrange times to phone you, so that we can have awkward conversations where neither of us really know what to say, and we're both a bit sad, and you eventually ask questions I don't have the answers to. That doesn't mean I didn't want to hear from you though. I just… I couldn't see a solution. Luckily, you had your clever hat on. _

_Anyway, I resolved to write you a reply the second I got into Cloverdale, telling you to go ahead and send me letters via general delivery. I assumed you wouldn't have started sending out notes until you at least got confirmation that I was checking. That would be the sensible course of action after all._

_And then I thought, what am I saying? You're Lisbon. In hindsight, I can't believe the notion that you might sit around doing nothing even crossed my mind. Whether you picked the right city struck me as being the more immediate problem. I barely spent a night in Healdsburg. But as you no doubt suspect, I had underestimated you. I found a letter waiting for me. It was maybe a week old, but it was still waiting._

_I've never been more pleased by the tangible results of your stubbornness before, dear. I'm not in any kind of mindset to come to work day to day, but I have missed hearing from you. You've come up with an ingenious solution to the dilemma, so go ahead and look pleased with yourself. It's not as irritating when you do it as when Pete does._

_I'm glad your cases are going well, even without me. (Although, almost three days to solve a measly little double homicide, Lisbon? You'd better pick up the pace!) I'm glad things are going smoothly in your life. I'm still managing to keep out of trouble, as well as sane, which I think we can both agree is a win._

_Excited to try some new eggs tomorrow morning. I have a good feeling about Cloverdale now._

_Your unworthy, yet faithful, correspondent,_

_-Jane_

x

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

I'm back! I'm very sorry. I signed up to write a multi-chapter Mentalist fic over the summer, and it took over more of my spare time than I was anticipating (although watch this space, because it'll be up soon). Anyway, I apologize for the delay in this fic. I'm back to working on it. I've written an extra long chapter. Sorry again for the delay.

xxx

_Request #8: Jane reading about Annie's visit and the spa treatments plus Request #3 (again): Some of the conversations between Annie and Jane_

xxx

Patrick Jane sat in the corner of a little café in Laytonville, toying with the end of a garden salad, sipping his tea, and, as he'd been doing so often lately, reading a letter. He was glad to have it. Letters from Lisbon didn't come every day after all (not anymore). He was only too aware that one a week was more than he had any right to expect, so if he did manage to get a second, he should count his blessings.

He refused to admit to himself how much he liked getting his letters. He would admit that they were a nice distraction though. Something to focus on that was much nicer than what usually occupied his brain. Not that he had much left to look forward to, now that...

Shaking his head, Jane refused to think about it. He would reread his letter instead. That was better.

xxx

_Dear Jane_

_I'll have you know that my book on leadership was an absolutely fascinating read. I definitely recommend it. I could give you the title, in case you're interested. I just finished it last night, and it didn't put me to sleep once._

_Although, you're right. There's nothing wrong with a little variety. I have read Lord Peter Wimsey, but not since high school. I used to love those books. Maybe you're right; maybe it is time for a reread._

_What about you though? When was the last time you read something written in the last thirty years? I get that you're trying to get through some of the classics, but you could stand to go crazy too, Jane. Pick up The Golden Compass, or The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, or the Hunger Games, or Harry Potter, or something. Find some kind of light reading. (So maybe the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo doesn't qualify.)_

_Or if that's too big a jump for you, get the DVD's of BBC's Sherlock. At least you'll be familiar with the characters, and it'll ease you into the modern world. Just a thought._

_As for predicting that you'd end up in Ukiah and not Fort Bragg, maybe I just figured you were too lazy to switch roads. Did you ever think of that? _

_Huh?_

_It's the same reason that I'm going to send this letter to Laytonville_

_-L_

_P.S. Guess who's coming to visit me in two weeks, Jane? Annie. She's apparently got a long weekend coming up, her Dad's got plans and her Mom's being, well, her Mom. So she's coming for a visit. We're going to go shopping. And apparently she wants to talk to me about something, but she won't tell me what. I hope it's not a serious problem. I don't think it is, but still. It's been a while since I've had to sort through teenage issues. I guess I'll just have to do my best._

_And you think I never take any vacation. Ha. I'm taking a long weekend in two weeks. So there._

xxx

Lisbon's post-script made him smile. He could practically feel Lisbon's excitement jumping off the page. Jane let himself indulge in picturing the two of them for a moment, two of his favourite women traipsing around Sacramento. Actually, in his mind's eye they weren't really taking in the sights of the city, they were curled up in Lisbon's living room chatting (although both women might scoff at the term, he'd bet that quite a bit of girl talk would take place when they did get together). The family resemblance and their pleasure in each other's company was obvious, at least in Jane's brain.

Annie would be dancing around whatever her secret was (probably boys though, it almost always was at that age), and Lisbon would be sitting next to her, trying to keep her posture open and receptive but inwardly terrified. Terrified because she'd want to give her niece the best possible advice and fix her problems (really Lisbon wanted to fix everybody's problems, but Jane knew she'd settle for fixing Annie's for the time being). And she'd be open to whatever Annie might want to say. After all, Lisbon had a fair bit of experience talking to teenagers, and she'd be smart enough not to push, which effectively demonstrated that she was way better at dealing with teenage angst than she thought she was.

Annie would be nervous, and a bit dismissive of any advice (as all adolescents tended to be). Particularly since Lisbon's advice wouldn't necessarily start of well, at least until she got over her nerves about her own abilities. But eventually things would sort themselves out and soon the two women would be chatting without restraint, Jane was sure. And in the end they'd both feel better.

Jane knew his mental image was an idealized version of what would probably actually happen, but he didn't care. Lisbon's letters were his distraction from the mess of his life. If he chose to idealize them a little, that was his business. Along with the ridiculous tourist attractions he'd been visiting, Jane used Lisbon's letters as a way to stop thinking about how ten years of chasing Red John had ended and, well, Lisbon herself actually.

Sometimes his life was confusing.

Jane shook his head, effectively ignoring those thoughts. Instead he grabbed a pad of paper and turned his mind to something far more pleasant.

After all, the faster he replied to her letter, the faster she was likely to send him something back.

xxx

_Laytonville, California,_

_Dear Lisbon,_

_You know, you never did tell me if you sent a letter to Fort Bragg. You implied that you didn't, but you didn't go right out and say it. Makes me wonder how many of your letters are just floating around the countryside. It's an interesting thought._

_I hope you did get your Lord Peter, Lisbon. Maybe you already have. I have no idea how many letters I'm behind. I hope you don't mind the repetition, if this is indeed repetitious. The nature of the beast I suppose. (I'm not even going to comment on your suggestion that I read your book on leadership. You're more than welcome to keep that title to yourself, Teresa.) I have to say, I'm not wild about all of your reading suggestions for me. I have absolutely no desire to read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo right now. I've no doubt it's an excellent novel, but I know what it's about. And I think the subject matter's probably a really, really bad idea right now. I'm trying to move away from crazy, Lisbon, not invite it into my brain for tea and an extended chat. Harry Potter is a possibility, though, I suppose. It would give me something to talk about with a large chunk of the population. I know the basics at least._

_For the moment though, I decided to really modernize my approach and switch mediums to television. You're right, BBC's Sherlock is very well done. A little predictable of course, all crime shows are. But it's definitely less predictable than most. It keeps my brain occupied. An inspired suggestion, dear._

_And I saw from your post script that Annie's coming to visit. That's lovely, Teresa. I'm pleased for you. I know how disappointed you were when she couldn't come in the summer, much as you tried to hide it (poorly, I might add. You'll never be an actress). I'm sure the Lisbon women will take Sacramento by storm. And don't worry about whatever it is she wants to talk to you about. When the time comes, I've no doubt you'll more than rise to the occasion. You're good at giving advice. I don't have any particular suggestions for the weekend, other than treat it like a mini holiday. Spoil her, and yourself._

_Go for ice cream. What about the spa? You may scoff at my suggestions, Lisbon, but I know you're tempted. Tell me that you couldn't use a little relaxation? A little pampering? If you don't actually go, you know you won't do it. I know you won't do it. We all know you won't do it. You'll put off relaxation in favour of responsibility. Always an uninspired choice._

_I'm sure your weekend will be lovely. Say hi to Annie for me, and keep an eye on your pockets. I hear she's been taking my tips to heart._

_-Jane _

xxx

Jane smiled when he finished. It was a nice idea, the two tough little women going to a spa.

Then he couldn't help frowning. He'd obviously missed part of the story though. He'd missed a letter, or gotten one out of order, or something. He and Lisbon had gotten out of sync with their correspondence. He just didn't like to think about it, even if he knew that one letter a week from Lisbon was all he could reasonably expect.

Actually, it was more than he could reasonably expect given that she was sending out her letters almost blind. In a way it was miraculous that he'd gotten any at all, another thing Jane refused to dwell on.

Instead he forced his thoughts back the Lisbon women, determined to keep his mind on something pleasant for longer than ten minutes at a time. If he'd still been in Sacramento he could have gone to talk to Lisbon herself with a pot of tea, but since he wasn't in Sacramento...

Jane ruthlessly derailed that train of thought. Instead, he decided on plan B. Pulling out his cell phone he started typing in a text message.

_Hey kid. I hear you're off to visit your aunt in a couple of weeks._

He patiently sipped his tea and watched the rest of the restaurant. It was mostly empty, but Jane was determined not to stare at his phone. He hoped she was around.

Jane was in luck. Fifteen minutes later, his phone buzzed with a text. _Yup._

Jane smiled slightly. _That's nice._

_Yup,_ was the only reply he received.

Frowning to himself, Jane tried to provoke a response that was longer than a monosyllable. Sometimes he forgot how frustrating teenagers could be. _Bet she's excited._

The next buzz was quick. _I am too._

Jane sighed. Well, three syllables was three times as many as last time. And at least Annie was quick with her text messages. It was one advantage of the North American dependence on constant contact, something Jane was still having trouble adjusting to (even if he'd never exactly been particularly fond of technology). Then a stray thought struck him. _Good. Maybe don't pick her pocket while you're there._

At least his suggestion provoked a longer response from Annie, though not the one he'd been expecting. _Afraid she'll be angry with you?_

He scowled. He wasn't afraid of Lisbon, not in the slightest. He wasn't. _No._

_I don't believe you,_ Annie assured her quickly. Jane could well picture her smug, all-knowing smile. He reflected that infallibility was another common fault of teenagers. Although, he supposed he probably couldn't judge Annie for that. He'd been accused of being arrogant himself more times than he could count.

_That's fine_, Jane assured her instead.

_Okay,_ she replied.

He scowled. It seemed they were back to monosyllables, so he tried to explain himself. _Lisbon just never liked pickpocketing._

_Shocking._

Jane chuckled to himself. _Hey now._

_You haven't gone back for a visit?_ Annie asked.

Now it was Jane's turn to become monosyllabic. _No. _He knew it wasn't a particularly good answer, but it was all that he had right now.

_Oh._

_It's not the reason you think,_ Jane hastened to tell her. He wasn't sure what Annie thought, but he was equally sure that it wasn't right. How could it be? He wasn't entirely sure of the reason himself. He had some idea of course, but... Oh, he didn't want to think about it right now. That had been the whole point of the text messaging.

Luckily, his phone buzzed, preventing him from going too far down that path. _No, sorry. Nevermind. It's none of my business._

_No, it`s not_, Jane agreed, but he'd started this. He couldn't blame Annie for being curious. He knew how things must look from an outside perspective, so he continued_. But I guess I don't mind._

There was a delay before Annie's next text appeared. _You don't think she'd want you to visit?_

Jane sighed. _It's not that. _He knew Lisbon would have loved him to visit her. He knew she was worried about him, wanted to make sure he was alright. She'd have enjoyed seeing him, at least until he opened his mouth and said something completely idiotic.

Annie certainly wasn't put off by his reticence. She could be as tenacious as her aunt when she wanted to be. _You don't want to visit?_

_It's definitely not that,_ Jane assured her honestly. Part of him wanted to visit Lisbon almost desperately. Part of him never wanted to see her again. Part of him still wanted to make her hurt. Thankfully, part of him knew that was unfair and undeserved. So here he was, sitting in Laytonville, trying to put all the parts of himself together (or at least trying to learn to live with them).

_Then why?_ Annie asked.

_It's complicated, _Jane told her. It was all he had right now. He knew it was a copout and a non-answer.

An opinion Annie obviously shared if her next text was anything to go by, _You're full of crap._

It made him smile. _Maybe._

_Whatever. We're going to have a great time next weekend._

Jane could practically feel her annoyance with him through his phone. He tried to placate her. _I'm sure you will._

His attempts to fix things worked about as well on Annie as they usually did on her aunt. _We will,_ the teenager assured him. _I've got to go. I've got to finish my homework._

Jane winced. So now homework was preferable to talking to him was it? He'd need to think of some kind of peace offering before he lost one of his only lines of communication to his old life._ Okay. Bye Annie._

_Bye Mr. Jane,_ the final text of the day read.

Jane sighed, contemplating his phone. That hadn't exactly been the distraction he'd been hoping for. Still, what did he expect? His life was an absolute mess right now. There was only so much people could do, even the Lisbon women.

Jane turned his attention back to his letter, re-reading it before addressing it to one Teresa Lisbon, Sacramento, California.

He really hoped Lisbon and Annie had a good weekend. He was sure they would, but he wished there was something he could do...

Suddenly Jane smiled to himself. He knew that no matter what he suggested, Lisbon wouldn't ever pamper herself, not even if Annie was visiting. And he did need a peace offering of sorts.

Just because Lisbon would never treat herself to a spa trip, didn't mean he couldn't.

Grinning from ear to ear, Jane went about hunting up the information for day spas in Lisbon's neighbourhood. He didn't realize it, but his quest provided a particularly effective distraction.

xxx

Further distraction came in Fortuna, almost a week later. To Jane's surprise, two letters were waiting for him at the post office there. The first had obviously been written earlier and told him things he mostly already knew.

Lisbon justified her choice in cities to send him letters to, not that she needed to, really. She was doing more than he had any right to expect. She hoped that he was sorting things out in his brain (a hope that Jane didn't have the heart to contradict). She discussed the distraction mystery novels could provide, told him about Annie's visit again (confirming that they were out of sync with each other), and asked for suggestions on what to do again. She also provided suggestions of her own on how to sort out his own problems. Jane made a mental note to give her suggestions a try. After all, walking on a beach to put things in perspective couldn't do any harm. He was willing to attempt anything at this point. Even if he didn't really think it would work.

Still, he could do worse. And he supposed he owed it to her to try.

But the letter Jane was really interested in was the second one (and not just because it put their correspondence back in sync, at least for a little while).

Lisbon's greeting alone made him think the second letter was going to be a good one.

xxx

_Damn it Jane!_

_This is exactly why I didn't want you teaching Annie to pick pockets! That is not something that she needs to get good at! Not that I'm worried that she'll take my stuff, except for fun, obviously._

_It's a good thing I've gotten better at recognizing when my pocket's being picked. All that time spent with you, I guess. And don't bother trying to tell me that you picked my pockets all the time and I never realized. Lie if I ever heard one._

_This letter isn't going to be long. I'm about ready to fall asleep on it as it is. Most of the things I want to say to you I covered in an earlier letter anyway. So many letters..._

_I just wanted to yell at you for teaching my niece your tricks. And to yell at you for criticizing my book suggestions. See if I suggest anything to you again! Although, I'm glad that you're liking Sherlock. I knew that you would. I'm definitely enjoying my book about an eccentric British aristocrat solving crime._

_I'll write more another day. I'm off to bed._

_Stop teaching my niece ways of getting into trouble!_

_-Lisbon_

_P.S. I will think about your suggestion of the spa though. Thanks._

xxx

Jane smiled to himself. He knew he shouldn't enjoy riling her up as much as he did, but...

He supposed it was a good thing he'd warned Annie against picking her aunt's pockets. Like Lisbon, he knew she'd only ever do it as a joke of course, but still. He didn't need Lisbon the elder irritated with him.

Jane reread both of Lisbon's letters. No matter what she said, he knew she'd never actually go to the spa. She'd get caught up in something and it would slip her mind. Or she'd decide something else was more important.

Jane frowned. It was a shame, because it sounded like she could use a chance to relax. She sounded more stressed than he liked. She was trying to hide it, keep things light (probably trying not to worry him), but he could tell. And her implication that she could be anything other than the cool Aunt made him scowl.

It also made him glad that he'd already bought her spa passes. They should be arriving just in time for her weekend with Annie. He was also glad that he'd encouraged Lisbon to take up reading again. She seemed to be enjoying her mystery novels, and at least that was something.

Grabbing his pad of paper from his pocket, Jane started to write another letter.

xxx

_Fortuna, California_

_Dear Teresa,_

_Two letters waiting for me in Fortuna? I feel privileged, dear._

_I have several things to say to you all at once as a result. _

_You sound absolutely exhausted. You need to take better care of yourself. Go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Relax. Stop work from time to time. Read your book. I'm not so unrealistic as to think you'll take all of my suggestions, but even one of the above would probably help._

_Which brings me to, I'm so glad you picked up the Dorothy Sayers. Enjoy your reread, Teresa. You deserve it._

_I'm sure you and Annie will come up with many, many things to occupy yourselves with over your weekend. If I know you at all, you've already started planning it all out. Tell me truthfully, you have a list, don't you?_

_You are not Boring Aunt Teresa, and I'm certain Annie would back me up on this. You're definitely cool Aunt Teresa, who's sometimes a bit fond of the rules._

_The Redwoods did help for a while. Then they just make you feel insignificant. They've been on the planet so much longer than any one person. Maybe I will try a meadow next time, and see how that goes. It's not a bad suggestion, Teresa. Now do me a favour, and stop worrying so much. You've known for some time that my mental state isn't always ideal. I can at least assure that I don't think it's gotten any worse._

_I'm done with my list for the time being I think. Although, you are sure that you're getting enough sleep? I don't need to send you some sort of sleep schedule to prevent you from running yourself ragged? You'll make yourself ill, and then you won't enjoy your visit with Annie. Think of how disappointing that will be._

_Speaking of which, tell me about this visit with your niece. What are your plans? I'd like to hear them (particularly that list of yours). Your letters are particularly endearing when you're happy._

_-Jane_

_P.S. I may stay in Fortuna a week or so, just to take a break from all of the driving. So it's probably best to send your next reply here._

xxx

As he addressed his letter, Jane was well aware that the only reason he was staying in Fortuna because he couldn't bear the thought of missing out on hearing about Annie's visit. That was one letter he didn't want to get lost in the mail.

And anyway, he wanted to hear if the two Lisbons liked his gift.

So there.

xxx

_Dear Jane,_

_It's absolutely ridiculous of you to tell me not to worry about your personal habits, and then talk about sending me a sleep schedule. When was the last time you got a full night's sleep? By that I mean more than four hours. I had a stressful day at work. It happens. It involved a headache that Tylenol didn't quite get rid of. And I'll have you know that I went straight to bed after I finished your letter. I woke up feeling right as rain the next morning, so you can take your sleep schedule and stuff it. Or better yet, keep it handy for your own use._

_I should mail you a relaxation tape. The sound of the seashore or something. That'd teach you, you big know-it-all. Lord Peter Wimsey can be a bit of a know-it-all too. He's not as bad as you are when it comes to know-it-all-ness though; it's a refreshing change. Or maybe he's just more charming about it. Of course, he's also fictional..._

_I may have started a list of things to do with Annie when she comes. Less than a week now. It's not an extensive list. Shopping, maybe a movie, the Mexican restaurant not far from my place, the one with the really good guacamole. I figured, she's already done most of the touristy things in the area, so we don't need to do those again, unless she wants to. I'm still considering the spa. Did she say whether she liked the one you sent her on last time? Anyway, she's only coming for three days. And she might want some time alone; she is fifteen. I don't want her to feel like I'm smothering her. I'm going to give her options. It's not like I've come up with some kind of schedule that must be followed at all costs. I'm not that much of a micromanager._

_I am going to buy cupcakes though. The good ones, with the awesome chocolate icing._

_Seriously Jane, I know you tell me not to worry, but you will tell me if there's something I can do, right? I _

_Hope staying put for a week helps a little. Maybe you just need to stop travelling for a couple of days. You have been reasonably settled for the last decade or so. Give yourself some time to adjust to the change (I know that's what you're trying to do and there are a lot of changes, I just... I don't have any better advice)._

_Until next time,_

_Lisbon_

_P.S. Do you really think I'm the cool aunt?_

xxx

Because her reply came more quickly than Jane had been expecting, before Annie had been expecting, he decided that he needed to do a really thorough tour of Fortuna.

Her excitement over her niece's visit put Lisbon in fine form. If Jane tried, he could almost pretend that she was beside him, telling him these things herself, instead of halfway across the state.

He could almost pretend that he'd gotten the letter in real time. That in reality, it wasn't days after Lisbon had written it, and that Annie wasn't already with her.

Shaking himself, Jane decided to focus on the important thing, writing her a reply.

xxx

_Fortuna, California_

_Dear Teresa,_

_Can we agree that both of us have the right to worry about the other? I think that's probably the best thing at this point. I'm certainly not about to stop being concerned when you write to me sounding exhausted, and you couldn't stop worrying if you had a gun to your head (yes, I realize there's something inherently wrong with that metaphor). Also, you'll forgive me if I don't stick to a sleep schedule. I'm also not going to start keeping a dream diary or come up with my own little happy place before bed. But, I will have you know that I slept six hours last night. It was a good night._

_Have you developed a fictional crush, Teresa? Need I remind you that your Lord Peter is already spoken for, at least eventually? I just wouldn't want you to end up fictionally heartbroken, or feeling betrayed. I feel as your literary confidante, that it is my duty to look out for you in the world of fiction._

_Your list of things to do with Annie sounds lovely, Teresa. I'm sure you girls will take Sacramento by storm. Because yes, you absolutely are the cool aunt. Keep me posted on any important developments there. My week hasn't been particularly exciting. Not a lot new to report since my last letter, so I could use a good story or two._

_Staying put for a while has been nice though. I met a guy who was looking for a fill in act at his club for a week. It's part of the reason I stuck around. I kept busy with that, telling people all of their secrets. No pretending to be a psychic, just proving how easy it was to pretend to read people's minds and fool them, if you're paying attention. Seemed to go over well, and it gave me something to do. But the regular act's back now, so I guess I'll continue my trek northward (still too lazy to switch highways)._

_I hope you girls enjoy your cupcakes,_

_-Jane_

xxx

Jane sealed the envelope slowly, addressing it to his loyal correspondent.

He'd held it together while he wrote the letter, but suddenly everything felt like it was pressing in on the edge of his brain.

The two Lisbon women were off in Sacramento having a wonderful time, and he was sitting in a nondescript motel room in northern California, all by himself. He didn't really know what he was doing there. He didn't know what he was doing at all.

Lisbon was enjoying herself with family, and books, and probably her job. Her job fulfilled her. She may not have the most balanced of lives by most people's standards, but she had _something._

What did he have?

He'd had a few days of work telling people things about themselves which were breathtakingly obvious to anyone who took the time to look, which had been mildly diverting, but that was done now. Now he was back to having absolutely nothing to do with his time, and no one around to care. The only person who did care was hours away.

And while sometimes her letters made him forget his problems, Jane knew that he wasn't doing well.

He was glad he'd told her that he was planning on moving on to another city. All of a sudden, he couldn't stay in Fortuna another minute. He needed to get out, to move. Now.

In less than ten minutes, Jane was checked out of his motel and back on the road, pausing only to drop his letter off in a mailbox on his way out of town.

His mood was not improved by the text message he received a few hours later.

_I think Aunt Reese really misses you._

Jane didn't reply. He didn't need to make another person (or two) hate him.

He already hated himself enough.

xxx

Luckily, Annie didn't text Jane again until the next evening.

_Thank you for the spa trip._

Jane put the nature documentary he was only half walking on mute. _You're welcome. _ He sent the text, only to start typing another one almost immediately._ Did your aunt relax a little?_

Jane waited impatiently for Annie's reply. _I think so._

_Good,_ he told her, pleased. The fact that Lisbon had enjoyed his gift eased some of his guilt for being irrationally mad at her for the past twenty-four hours (although it did little to ease his anger at himself).

_So, letters huh?_ Annie asked.

Jane laughed, surprised. He should have known he'd be hearing about this. _Something wrong with letters, Annabeth?_

_If you think I'm going to be distracted by your using my full name, you're wrong,_ Annie informed him.

_I would never think that,_ Jane assured her.

_Aunt Reese likes her letters_, Annie told him.

The thought made Jane smile, even though he'd already known that. _That's good._

_Although, you might want to modernize things a little,_ Annie suggested.

_Why?_ Jane asked curiously, knowing the question would irritate her.

_Because it's the 21__st__ century,_ Annie told him.

Jane decided to change the subject. _So your weekend visiting your aunt's going well then?_

_She taught me how to take down a suspect twice my size today,_ Annie told him.

Jane grinned. Only in the Lisbon family would that be considered an acceptable answer to his question. He was sorry he'd missed that particular lesson. _Everyone is twice your size, your aunt's too,_ he replied, feeling suddenly better.

_Shut up._ Annie told him. _I could totally take you down now._

_That's not exactly a notable achievement,_ Jane told her wryly. He'd never been under any illusions about his own physical abilities. He'd always lived by his wits.

_She also took me to the shooting range and gave me lessons._

Jane smirked. _Well, now you're just bragging_.

_Can I help it if my aunt is awesome?_ Annie asked.

Jane had to give her that one. She really couldn't help that. _I suppose you've got me there._

_Exactly,_ Annie replied. _Unfortunately, I have to finish my math homework, or I'll have to do it tomorrow and Aunt Reese won't take me shopping._

Jane's smile turned wistful. He couldn't let that happen. Both women would be too disappointed. He would do everything he could to ensure Lisbon had the best weekend possible with her niece. _I won't keep you then. Night Annie._

_Night Mr. Jane._

Jane's wistfulness lasted most of the weekend, the two Lisbon women never far from his thoughts. Even if he could have successfully distracted himself from wondering what they were up to, Annie kept sending him regular updates, making it all but impossible. He heard all about Aunt Reese's apparent terrible taste in blouses. That lasted about twenty minutes, when apparently Aunt Reese switched to having the best taste in clothes _ever_.

Aunt Reese also apparently bought the best presents, which Annie was innocently excited about.

Jane saluted Lisbon silently from afar. He'd known she'd do better at the teenage stuff than she'd thought.

Still, lonely as they made him feel, Jane was glad of Annie's regular updates, particularly as he didn't hear from Lisbon until a few days later. When he did hear from her, it was obvious that her letter had only been sent midway through her weekend with her niece.

_xxx_

_Dear Jane,_

_Did I suggest that you keep a dream diary? Did I? I did not. I am not so foolish. I have also not suggested finding a happy place, or seeing a doctor. I am well aware that to suggest such things to you would be wasting my breath (or I suppose, in this case, wasting the ink in my pen). I merely pointed out that those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, and in this particular situation, you are in one heck of a glass house._

_Nothing wrong with a little fictional crush. Sometimes that's half the fun of a book. I'm sure you've had your fair share, so hush. I'm allowed._

_Speaking of crushes, I had to give advice on boys today. I haven't given anyone advice on boys in years. The closest I've come was after Van Pelt and Rigsby ended things and you ABANDONNED me, leaving me alone with her in the elevator. Crying. Thank heavens it was only three floors. God that was awkward. I did my best, both with her and today. I hope my advice works out. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't tell you the details. Unofficial girl talk rules and all that._

_I can however, tell you that I have somehow let myself be talked into showing my niece how to take down a suspect. Also, we might go to the shooting range afterwards. Part of me isn't thrilled with it at all, but then the rest of me wants to make sure she learns it right, y'know? Besides, it might be kinda fun. I haven't taught a class in takedown procedure in a while. It'll stop me from getting rusty._

_All of this means, as I'm sure you've gathered, that Annie has arrived. She just got here today. So far everything's been going pretty well. I think it'll be a good weekend. The weather's supposed to be nice at least._

_Oh, which reminds me, you didn't tell me you were still texting Annie sometimes. That's nice. It's nice to know that in an emergency, you do have a phone. Don't worry; I'm not going to hunt you down. But I suspect you know that already, or you wouldn't have done it. Still, texting, Patrick? What happened to reviving the long lost art of letter writing?_

_Besides, I like our letters._

_Anyway, I should go to bed. I've got a busy weekend ahead of me from the sounds of it, starting with tackling lessons. I hope that your temporary job went well. I'm sure it did. It must have been nice having something to do for a few days. Hope resuming your travels works out too._

_-L_

xxx

Jane tucked the letter in his vest pocket. He was going to try to live vicariously in her world for a little while longer. It was so much nicer than his reality.

He didn't reply right away, hoping to hear about the second half of her weekend with Annie before he did.

Maybe he could prevent their letters from being out of sync just a little while longer. He stopped at every post office he could think of on his way north.

Luckily, he found her second letter on the road to Crescent City.

xxx

_Dear Jane,_

_Well, I'm all by my lonesome again._

_Annie's gone. She left earlier today, adamant that she could take the bus and I didn't have to drive her. Her Dad picked her up at the bus station. He just called. They both got in safe and sound. I was questioned about my decision to take her to the shooting range, but I think Tommy's okay with it now. He was just a little surprised by it all, I think. He was positively thrilled when I mentioned that I taught Annie how to knock a boy to the ground if necessary. But then, I also apparently bought her too many presents. But I don't care what he thinks about that. Annie and I had a good time on our shopping trip. That's all that matters._

_Besides, I just got her a few things. And they're for school. It's nice to get new things sometimes. I bought a couple things for myself too. I had fun, even if the whole weekend was a little exhausting, but in a good way this time (don't go offering to send me another stupid sleep schedule)._

_Anyway, shopping was yesterday afternoon. We ended with dinner (the Mexican restaurant that I knew she'd like), some TV and some cards. Then today was brunch, packing, and getting to the bus station in time. Which we did of course._

_Thank you for the spa trip. That was what we did yesterday morning. You didn't have to do that, but it was very sweet. Relaxing too (which I'm sure was your intention). Annie and I enjoyed ourselves, getting massages and all that good stuff. Really, Saturday was very much a girl's day out._

_Of course, now it's back to the CBI tomorrow. I hope we get a case. I could use the distraction._

_I'm going to send this letter onto Eureka. Don't know how long you're staying in Fortuna. Of course, I also don't know why I'm telling you that. If you get this, you'll know very well where I sent it. If not, well, you'll never read the sentence anyway so it doesn't matter._

_Whatever, I'm not changing it. I hope you're okay._

_-Lisbon_

xxx

Jane frowned. Lisbon sounded lonely. He didn't like it. He knew what that was like. It wasn't what he wanted for her.

It sounded like she'd had a lovely weekend with her niece too (not that he'd ever doubted that). That was what he wanted her to remember.

There was so much fun hidden between the lines of her first letter; that was what she should focus on, the good things in her world.

Mind made up, Jane sat down, determined to write her a letter that reminded her of what she still had. He'd be breezy and charming, something that could be so much easier for him in written form (at least these days).

He'd tease her. He'd tell her how much Annie enjoyed their weekend. He'd offer a sympathetic ear.

That was all he could do for her right now.

Jane just hoped his letter would be enough.

xxx

_Crescent City, California,_

_Dear Lisbon,_

_I'm on the move again, as you can see. I travelled quite a bit today. All of a sudden I got sick of staying in one place, kicking around Fortuna with nothing to do. The show went well. I enjoyed it for a few days, but then it was done, and I was suddenly just sick of the entire town, so I just got into my car and drove. It's nice to have that freedom. I drove until I got to Crescent City. It's a nice little place so far._

_It's different. And that's what I wanted._

_It is a good thing that I stopped in at a few small towns along the way, or I would have missed your second letter. And that would have been a shame._

_I see I owe you an apology. I promise never to offer to send you a sleep schedule again. Or to suggest that you want me to keep a dream diary. We will both do our best to get as much sleep as we need, in our different ways. I'm glad that you enjoyed the spa trip though. I hope it was relaxing. I've been by the sea lately, and you're right, that does help you relax. I'm glad I could help._

_I'm also glad you had a good weekend with Annie, dear. Don't bother trying to tell me it was tiring; I can see through you. You had the time of your life. And I'm sure your advice about boys was better than you think. You may feel awkward giving it (and by the way, I don't know why you think *my* presence in an elevator with you and a crying Van Pelt would have made anything less awkward), but in the end you always have good intentions, and that makes all the difference._

_I am texting Annie. I have been for a while, which I suppose is why I never thought to mention it to you. It's never anything all that important, so I guess it just never came up. It never really occurred to me to try and write her letters. I suspect I'd get the equivalent of an eye-roll in my next text message, whatever that might be. I suppose this is why the art of letter writing is getting lost. But we're keeping it alive in our own little corner of the world, aren't we Teresa?_

_Anyway, Annie texted me a few days ago. First she was smug about having caught me writing you letters. Apparently this is something you catch someone in now, sending a friend a letter. I disregarded that message. Others followed it. I heard all about your class on tackling. And the lessons at the shooting range. And shopping. _

_Okay, I didn't hear all about any of those things. I heard the highlights. Only so much you can convey via text message, but I got the picture. She may have bragged that she would now be able to knock me to the ground if she ever saw me. I told her that fact was never in any doubt. After all, I'm hardly a difficult target when it comes to feats of physical strength._

_You could certainly get the better on me if it you wanted to. In fact, I seem to recall being punched in the nose more than once over the years..._

_But that's not the point. The point is that it sounds like the two of you had a lovely weekend. I'm happy for you Lisbon._

_I hope you've re-adjusted now. I heard on the radio that the CBI'd been called into a case on the other side of the state. I'm sure that provided the distraction you wanted. Heard it was solved too. Unsurprising, obviously. _

_I'm glad things are going well for you. I continue on, much the same. I think things are alright though. I hope they are. Let's both hope for that, shall we? (I know you always do.)_

_Have a good night, Teresa. I'll write to you soon. And you know that if you ever need to talk, I'll listen. Just write me a letter,_

_As always,_

_-Patrick_

_x_

TBC (And I will do my best not to take months to update this time)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Look, I'm back. I know I'm being really slow with this, and I'm sorry. It's been a busy fall.

_Request #9: When Jane's car broke down in the middle of nowhere_

xxx

Jane was not having a good day.

Make that a good week.

In fact, he hadn't gotten a letter from Lisbon in over _two_.

Which was his own a fault, he was well aware of that. He had no one to blame for his situation to blame but himself.

Once he'd left Crescent City, he'd taken a sharp right turn instead of continuing along the highway he'd been travelling on. He'd had some vague notion of driving across the top of the state, maybe see some of the national forest there. He'd enjoyed seeing the redwoods earlier; Lisbon had mentioned they might put something in perspective. Surely a national forest would have the same effect. After his little temporary job entertaining people, a little solitude had seemed like a good idea.

And it was beautiful, the forest that is. Plus, he'd enjoyed himself, sorting his way through the back roads armed with nothing but a map. Jane had thought it would be a good opportunity to try to sort some things out. Maybe actually face some things, and stop trying to distract himself in the stories Lisbon told him.

She certainly hadn't managed to find him with her letters as he wound his way through Northern California.

(Always in California though; he never left the state. Something about being in her jurisdiction was... reassuring.)

And he could do with a little reassurance right now. Twenty-four hours earlier, and very nearly in the middle of nowhere, his car had started making funny noises. Jane had popped the hood, but couldn't see anything wrong. Although, that was unsurprising. He was perfectly capable of carrying out minor repairs (like changing a tire), but the intricacies of the Citroen's engine were a bit beyond him.

So he'd kept his fingers crossed that his faithful little car would be able to make it just a little further. He supposed that, for all their beauty, the back roads came with their own hazards.

Luckily, his car had sputtered its way into Yreka, where Jane had stopped at the first garage that looked reputable.

He should have known better than to trust mere appearances. The mechanic who'd examined his beloved Citroen was nothing short of a common swindler, if not an outright thief. The man had obviously known that Jane was at his mercy and had exploited that fact. Apparently his car wasn't built for extensive use on dirt roads and now a part needed to be ordered. A part that sounded like it was made out of solid gold, if its price was anything to go by.

So now Jane was stuck waiting for said part. He'd huffed out of the mechanics in irritation, but not before assuring his car that soon she would be good as new. The brute had better be gentle with her. The cost notwithstanding, if the unscrupulous mechanic didn't know what he was doing, well, Jane may not have been able to fix an engine, but he had other talents. And he was more than capable of making his mechanic's life quite difficult if need be.

Now he was hungry. Time to find a diner of some kind. And if he was going to be stuck in Yreka for a while, maybe it was time to take the opportunity to reconnect with the outside world.

He'd missed her letters.

He'd thought that that getting lost in them was a weakness, but maybe they were sanity.

Jane sat down and began to write.

x

_Yreka, California_

_Dear Lisbon,_

_I haven't found a letter from you in almost two weeks now. I suppose that's my own fault. My route these past couple weeks hasn't really followed any kind of a set path. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm confined to Yreka for the next few days. My poor car started making funny noises on the last leg of my journey. I took it to a mechanic last night, who promptly started shaking his head in a dismal manner (almost certainly as part of lead up to justify charging me what I am sure will be an exorbitant amount for the repairs). I gather that the problem isn't particularly serious, just something that needs a fair bit of work to sort out._

_So I will be spending a little while exactly where I am. Not that I mind, particularly. I was probably due to stop for a few days anyway, try and get my bearings again, or something._

_When I do get going, maybe I'll follow Highway 5 for a while. There really are almost an innumerable places a person could go in this state, many of which I've never been to. It's ridiculous really. Probably high time I got to know my own home state a bit better. It really is different, driving around the state when you're not going somewhere solely for the purpose of solving a murder. You look at a town a different way, Lisbon. You should try it sometime._

_Anyway, I'm off to the restaurant on the corner to grab some dinner. I've become rather fond of family-owned restaurants on this trip. There's something about them when you're travelling. They're almost comforting, even if the food is terrible. But it's worth it, because sometimes the food is fantastic. It's hit and miss, I guess, just like anything else._

_I hope things are going well with you, Teresa. Let me know, if you're not already too fed up with me and my gallivanting to write back._

_-Jane_

x

It was a considerable relief when her letter showed up faithfully several days later.

x

_Dear Aggravation,_

_I'm sending this letter to Yreka, and if you're not there when it arrives and you don't get it, you have no one to blame but yourself._

_Of course you haven't heard from me in a few weeks. How was I to know you'd cut across northern California taking the scenic route, when any sane person just takes the highway through Oregon? Although, I guess that answers my question. You're not sane._

_Alright, I'm done. After all, it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting into when I started writing to you. We both knew that this correspondence wouldn't always be exactly regular. It is what it is._

_So instead of complaining, I will tell you that I'm doing well. Things are much the same here. You sound like you enjoyed your little detour through the forest, for all that your poor car didn't. I just hope that thing doesn't decide to completely fall apart on you one of these days. I can just picture you sitting in it while the wheels and doors just fall right off, like in a cartoon. I've had my doubts about it over the years. _

_Of course, then it always goes and proves me wrong, so I guess all I can do is hope that it continues to do so._

_I know you're not going to become sensible about that thing all of a sudden, that's for sure._

_Sarah and Connor stopped by to see Rigsby the other day at work. He's growing like a weed, and he's into everything. Not that anybody minded, of course. We were keeping a pretty close eye on him. He's such a happy little fellow, always cheerful. Guess he takes after his Dad that way. They're really adorable together. I'm sending you a picture (Rigsby and Sarah just got some new ones taken), which is another reason you'd better be where you say you are._

_Van Pelt's started seeing someone new. He seems nice. He's an architect. I don't know much about him. I think they met playing ultimate Frisbee, or something. As far as I know, there's nothing new with Cho, although sometimes it's hard to tell._

_I need to do laundry, but I'm not going to. I think I'm going to watch TV instead. Laundry can wait. I'm sorry that my life isn't very exciting today, sometimes it's like that._

_Until next time (and yes, I will keep writing. I promise)_

_Teresa_

x

Jane ran his fingers over the corners of the paper, more relieved than he was comfortable with.

He picked up the photo of Connor. The little boy was growing fast. He wasn't a baby any more. And he was certainly growing more and more like his father.

Jane frowned. He wondered if the rest of them were changing. He'd like to see a photo of the team, check for visible changes in the last few months. He wanted to see if she'd changed. He wanted to see her.

He'd missed her.

And he couldn't tell her.

Because what could she say if he did? "_If you missed me so much, why don't you get in your damn unreliable car, if it's even working again, and come and see me? You know where I live! You know where I am! The fact that I can't even reach you reliably by letter is your own fault. You miss me. Right. Well, then do something about it."_

But he couldn't do anything about. He _couldn't_. He didn't know, well, anything really. And what if he... What if he saw her and then... He didn't deserve her. Since he'd met her, she'd been one of the few good things in his life. Hell, she'd probably saved his life. He couldn't... He couldn't do anything.

Jane frowned. Maybe that wasn't quite true.

Maybe there was one thing he could do. He could drive in a straight line.

x

_Yreka, California,_

_Dear Lisbon,_

_My mechanic, who really, is just above a common criminal, assures me that my lovely car will be running again, after naming an exorbitant price for the repairs and barely containing his grin. If the man had a mustache, he would have twirled it. And don't accuse me of exaggerating._

_I did get your letter, and the photo. Thank you for that. Connor is growing into quite a handsome boy, and very like his father. I imagine he keeps everyone on their toes. Thanks for the update on the team; I'm glad that everything seems to be going well. That's always nice to hear. I'm glad you haven't quite given up on this letter-writing in frustration._

_I am a bit anxious to get on the road. I think I'll make my way down Highway 5. Probably take it slow. There's no rush after all._

_Maybe I'll write you again tomorrow, when I have my car. If it's not working, I really think that legal action needs to be taken against this mechanic. I really do._

_Until next time,_

_Love Jane_

x

Jane smiled to himself as he dropped the letter into a mailbox. He hoped it would help her find him.

xxx

_Request #3 (again): Some of the conversations between Annie and Jane_

xxx

Jane was sitting on his bed in Mount Shasta, smiling at a letter in his hand. He knew he probably shouldn't be as happy as he was to hear about the successful date of a friend's niece. But he was. Maybe it was only one date on the surface, but it was more than that. Though she'd never admit it (and terrified as she'd probably been in the moment), Jane knew that Lisbon had loved being asked for romantic advice. Spending time with her family always had a positive effect on her mood.

And Annie and Lisbon were so obviously fond of each other. Jane just liked hearing that they were both happy.

Well, that and he always liked gossip. Smirking to himself he pulled out his phone.

_I hear someone has a new boyfriend._

His phone buzzed fifteen minutes later, signalling a reply. _He's *not* my boyfriend._

Jane smirked. _That's not what I heard._

This reply was almost instantaneous. _We've only been on one date._

_Soon to be two, according to my sources._ Jane told her.

The next reply took a few minutes. _Aunt Reese told you about my date?!_

The over-abundance of punctuation made Jane smile. _She may have mentioned it. She approves by the way. _

_Don't be such an annoying know-it-all._ The teenager snapped back.

_I was just trying to be encouraging._ Jane replied innocently.

_You're an idiot. _Was Annie's quick answer.

Jane smiled a little sadly. _Maybe._

There was another pause. _What else did Aunt Reese say?_

_That your Dad did his best to put the fear of god into the boy._ Jane admitted candidly.

_Oh god. That was SO embarrassing._ Annie replied.

Jane could practically see the teenager's annoyance at what she perceived as paternal interference. He shut his eyes briefly. _Give him a break. He's your Dad. That's his job._

_Still,_ Annie replied. _So embarrassing._

_I heard you're going on a second date, so it can't have been all bad._ Jane reminded her.

_That's none of your business_, Annie replied.

_No, it isn't,_ Jane agreed. _You're right._

_Maybe you should bother Aunt Reese if you want more gossip._ Annie told him.

_Maybe I just will,_ Jane told her.

_Maybe even *call* her, like a normal person._ Came the teenager's next reply. Jane could practically hear Annie judging him through his phone line.

_Since when am I normal? _Jane asked, trying to keep things light.

_Whatever, _was Annie's only answer; she was clearly unimpressed with him. _Good night Mr. Jane._

_Good night Annabeth_, Jane told her, closing her phone. Then, after barely a moment's hesitation, he decided to take her advice (in a way) and write to her aunt.

After all, he certainly didn't have anything else to do

x

_Mount Shasta, California_

_Dear Lisbon,_

_Congratulations on acting as an accessory to scaring the life out of a fifteen year old. You must feel very proud. Oddly enough, when I congratulated Annie on her date, she wasn`t impressed with me. _

_Apparently I am both an annoying know-it-all and an idiot. I would have thought those two were mutually exclusive, but I digress._

_It's nice to hear you talk about your family. You sound happy. I'm glad._

_I saw an elephant yesterday. No, not at the state fair. At a zoo, just for a change. It cost an exorbitant amount to gain entrance, but I enjoyed myself in the end. So there is that. The visit passed the time._

_Unfortunately, sometimes I don't quite know what to do with myself or my time._

_-Jane_

xxx

_Request #10: Jane sliding the letter under Lisbon's door, but not staying AND Request #6 (again): Jane getting all of Lisbon's letters that she left him._

_AKA: The scene where Jane is a bit of an idiot._

xxx

He was approaching Sacramento. Actually, he wasn't so much approaching it at as he already there. He had been approaching it for days though, maybe even weeks.

He hadn't mentioned it in his letters. And neither had she. Even though they both knew what direction he was travelling in.

Why? Why hadn't she brought it up?

He knew why he hadn't. Because he was a coward. And he was a terrible person.

It was so much easier when he was away, off on his own. He didn't have to worry about seeing her. Didn't have to worry about his anger, or even if he was actually angry.

He _was _angry.

But was it directed at her?

Maybe. Maybe not. But still maybe.

And if he saw her, and if he had to face...

He was in her city. Where she lived. He couldn't just ignore that, could he? Did he want to ignore that? He wanted to see her. He'd already driven by her condo once. And he'd been watching the news off and on, hoping to get a glimpse of her (although he mostly tried to tell himself that wasn't what he was doing, that he was just trying to keep up with current events).

He'd heard on the radio that morning that the CBI had sent the Serious Crimes Unit south. Some kind of brutal murder had taken place the day before. So Lisbon wouldn't even be in Sacramento.

Not today anyway. Though she would be soon.

Still, it meant that he had a bit of a grace period.

Feeling almost jittery, Jane drove to his old long-term stay motel. He hoped the familiarity wouldn't be too much. Taking a deep breath, Jane got out of the Citroen and walked up to the front death. He smiled when he saw Maria, the owner's wife, standing behind it. She'd always been friendly. She was busy rummaging in a drawer at the moment; Jane waited patiently for her to notice him.

"Just a second please," Maria said absently. Then, finding the paper she was looking for, she finally looked up and her face split into a wide smile. "Patrick!"

"Maria," Jane replied with a grin of his own. "I don't suppose you could scrounge up a room for a helpless wanderer, could you?"

"Oh _you,_" Maria said, waving her hand in his direction. "Don't you try and give me that, Patrick Jane. We both know that you're far from helpless."

"I suppose we do," Jane agreed, taking out his wallet. "How are you?"

Maria shrugged. "Can't complain. The motel's still standing and Bill and I just heard that we're about to become grandparents again."

"Congratulations," Jane said. "Your son Frank the lucky parent to be?"

"Thank you," Maria replied. "And yes. You said you were only going to be in town for a couple days?"

"That's the plan," Jane added lightly.

Maria frowned. "Too bad you can't stay longer. You should be more settled."

"Trying to reel in another long-term client?" Jane teased, trying to keep things light.

Maria didn't laugh. "Well, I wouldn't mind the business, but you're looking tired, Patrick."

"Maybe I just need a good night's sleep," Jane suggested, suddenly eager to hurry the conversation along.

"Maybe you do," Maria agreed obviously not buying it for a second. Still she took the credit card Jane was holding out without further comment, for which he was grateful. "You're old room's free if you want it," she told him. "I'll just print you out a receipt."

"Thank you," Jane murmured.

"Hmm," was Maria's only reply. She turned to grab his key when something struck her. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I almost forgot. I have something for you."

Jane's heart rate accelerated slightly as he watched her fuss around the cash register until she found an envelope behind it. His fingers pricked as he recognized the writing on the front. He'd known it would be her. The number of people who'd leave him anything at the motel was low. In fact, there was probably only one.

Jane took the envelope slowly. It'd been there a while, if looks were anything to go by. "Thank you," he murmured.

Maria was watching him closely. "She misses you, you know."

Jane didn't bother insulting both of their intelligence by asking who "she" was. "You've seen her?" he asked a little too quickly.

Maria shook her head slowly. "Not in months. And only once since you left, when she dropped that off in case you ever came back. I was more than happy to do her a favour of course. I've always liked that woman. The fact that she left you a message at all is enough to tell me that she misses you."

"Thank you," Jane murmured, unsure of what else to say. "I appreciate it."

"So are you going to see her?" Maria asked, a little nosily in Jane's opinion.

"I don't think she's in town," he replied quickly. Then picking up his receipt and room key he added, "You said you put me in the same room?"

"I did," Maria confirmed, obviously realizing he didn't want to talk about it. "Call if you need anything."

"I will," Jane agreed, before grabbing his bag and practically fleeing to the quiet of his old motel room.

It looked exactly as it always had. It was clean and neat, but nothing notable. Jane thought some of the pictures looked a little more faded, but that could have easily been his imagination. He dropped wearily onto the bed and slowly opened his letter, wondering what it said.

x

_Dear Jane, _

_I hope you're doing alright. You seem to be based on your letters. I'm glad. I hope you don't mind my writing to you. I know you need time to yourself, to sort things out and I'm in no way trying to encroach on that, I swear._

_I just... I just want to write you a letter from time to time. That's all. I'm not asking you for an address. I'm well aware that you won't have a steady one. And I'm not trying to force you to read anything I write. I do hope that you get this letter. I have no way of knowing if you will. But if you do, and you want me to write to you, keep including the town you're staying in at the top of your letters. If you abruptly stop, I'll know what that means and I won't try to contact you again._

_But if you do want to read a letter from me from time to time, check General Delivery at the main post office when you get to a new town. If we're lucky, maybe I'll hit one on your random route. If not, well, at least I'll have tried. _

_It's like you said, I've gotten used to writing these letters. I'd like to continue. I hope you don't mind._

_-Lisbon_

x

The letter brought along its own kind of pain, even if he'd already read it once before. Well, not so much this one, as the exact copy she'd left with Pete and Sam.

She'd gone to all this work. And for what? To write him letters, to keep in touch. She hadn't given up on him, not for a second.

And he didn't know what to do about that.

All at once, Jane knew that he couldn't see her. He wanted to (oh did he want to), but he didn't know what would happen.

And he couldn't subject her to that, whatever it was, or would be. He couldn't. He couldn't hurt her. He'd never wanted to hurt her. The best way to do that would probably be to get out of her life permanently.

But he couldn't bring himself do that either. And there was no way he could pretend that he hadn't been in the city. She'd know, and that might hurt more.

So instead he sat down to write, hoping that he was choosing the least painful course.

x

_Dear Teresa,_

_I'm sorry. I know you're probably angry with me. I don't blame you._

_I don't have a very good explanation for it. Not one that will satisfy you, I'd imagine. I just suddenly knew that I couldn't see you. It would make everything more difficult, infinitely more difficult._

_Don't blame your case, or the fact that you were out of town. I knew that you were when I dropped this letter off (heard about it on the radio, as it happens). But, if you hadn't been away on a case, I'd have dropped my note off at your place while you were at the office, or maybe just mailed it to you like all the others. The case just made things easier, gave me more of an excuse (albeit not a very good one, I know)._

_It's nothing you did. I'm not angry with you, or punishing you, or anything else. Trust me when I say that this has nothing to do with anything but the problems in my own confused, messed up brain. Your letters seem to stabilize things, but seeing you... I don't know. I just don't know, and that's the problem. (There are too many things that I don't know.) Suddenly, I don't think this north-south thing is working for me anymore. Maybe I'll try heading east for a change._

_But I couldn't just leave the city without a word. That seemed cruel. (As opposed to what I did do, which is mainly selfish, or maybe self-preservation.)._

_Anyway..._

_Your building looks the same as ever, except that some of the trees are a little taller and I see that the sickly looking rosebush in the front has finally succumbed to its inevitable fate. The hydrangea that's replaced it looks much hardier. I have high hopes for it._

_I know, I know, the lightness isn't helping. I really am sorry._

_Hate me for this if you like. You certainly have the right to. You have the right to quite a bit more, actually. So very much more. I've never been particularly strong, particularly brave (that was always your job). I'm always so full of human frailty._

_I'm so sorry._

_I wish I could have seen you._

_-Jane _

x

The next morning, like the coward that he was, he drove to her condo, unsurprised to find it quiet. He followed one of Lisbon's neighbours in through the front door, and, hesitating for only a minute, slid his letter under her door.

He knew he would cause her some pain. He could only hope that it was less than the alternative.

Minutes later he was back in the Citroen, driving out of the city as quickly as possible, uncaring that he'd technically paid for two nights at the motel.

He couldn't stay in Sacramento. It made him feel even more alone than usual.

xxx

_Request #11: Jane getting Lisbon's angry letter, but pretending he didn't_

xxx

Jane told himself that he only stopped off at the post office in Folsom out of habit. He'd been driving aimlessly in the suburbs of Sacramento for days trying not to think too hard.

He told himself that he wasn't expecting to hear from her. He told himself that she hated him now, and even if she didn't, then she was definitely at least angry. He told himself that he'd only told her he was heading east just to give her the _option_ of writing to him. Not because he'd actually expected her to do it.

If the expression the clerk at the Folsom post office was anything to go by, Jane knew that he'd done a terrible job of hiding his desperation.

The fact that he'd practically pounced on Lisbon's letter the second it came into view probably didn't help things either.

And now he was holed up in yet another in an endless string of nondescript motel rooms, opening this latest letter with slightly shaking fingers, fully expecting the worst.

x

_Jane,_

_Maybe I'd have wanted your cockamamie explanation, did you ever think of that before you decided not to give it? Maybe it would have satisfied me. You don't know me as well as you think you do. And even if you're right, don't you think I deserve to hear it?_

_Instead I got a few sentences about how this is hard for you. You don't think I *know* this is hard for you? I have been nothing but supportive for months. Months, Jane. God. I wasn't expecting you to show up and take me out for dinner or something, all cheerful and full of stories about your travels. But would a cup of coffee have killed you?_

_Would it? You were just complaining about having nothing to do with yourself, you idiot._

_I think I would have preferred if you had just mailed the damn letter. At least then I could have pretended that you decided to drive around the city or something, instead of showing up on the other side of my damn door and deciding it wasn't worth waiting a couple of days for me to come back._

_You are a selfish bastard._

_But I know that. I've always known that. And here's a secret, most of the time, I don't really mind all that much. Oh wait, you already knew that too. I bet you figured that out about a week after I met you. You arrogant ass. You knew exactly what type of boss I'd be. How long before you started manipulating me? Five minutes, maybe ten? Or was it less? Did you have some big grand plan? I hope I spoiled it._

_Or, I don't know. I don't know if I meant that. But I'm not exactly sorry. I want to yell at you. And you did say that you wanted me to tell you things..._

_Damn, damn, damn, damn._

_I know you're trying to figure stuff out, and I hope to god you are. I really do. I don't want to send you off into a tailspin (which apparently the sight of my face would have done. Awesome). Maybe this was a good decision for you. I don't know. It seems like neither of us knows anything._

_But this just, it... it... I'm angry with you for this. And I wanted you to know that._

_Sometimes I just get so sick of being the one who always has to be sensible. I wish that rosebush was still in front of my building, and that you'd cut your hand on it. And then bled all over your stupid suit. And the stain refused to come out._

_Maybe I don't know what I want._

_I'll write to you again in a few days. Not now. Not just now._

_-Lisbon_

x

Jane felt like he'd been punched in the chest.

He didn't blame her for it. He probably deserved worse. He knew very well that he had no one to blame for their situation but himself. Part of him wanted to run down to his car and drive at top speed back to Sacramento and find her. Find her and apologize, and...

And tell her that the problem wasn't that she wasn't important enough. He hadn't left Sacramento before she'd returned because he couldn't be bothered waiting for her. He'd have waited for _weeks_ if timing had been the only issue.

He'd been trying _not_ to hurt her. And look how that had turned out.

Of course, she wasn't trying to hurt him either. Jane paused, considering that. Actually, she probably _had_ been trying to hurt him a little with her letter. Make him see the effect he had.

Good for her.

Jane read the letter again more slowly. He didn't know how to fix it. Didn't know how to make it better.

He also couldn't go and see her, see her always-hopeful eyes. Eyes that he knew would be asking if he'd resolved any of his demons. If he was back to stay, if they could be friends like they'd been before.

Because he didn't know the answers to _any_ of those questions right now. He still felt like he didn't know _anything_.

Except that he had to do his best not to destroy whatever tentative connection he still had to Lisbon.

He reread the last few lines of her letter a third time.

She sounded as confused as he was. She didn't know what she wanted, but she was still going to write. She'd promised to. And Teresa Lisbon didn't break her promises.

Jane let himself enjoy the relief flooding through him and tried to ignore the rest.

Writing.

That was what he could do. He could write to her, try to cheer her up with charming stories. He wouldn't mention her letter. Didn't know how to mention it in all honesty. It would only result in questions he still couldn't answer, and knowing Lisbon, she was probably berating herself for daring to make demands, not that Jane blamed her – she had every right – but Lisbon might blame herself.

Probably best if he just pretended he hadn't gotten the letter. Particularly since he had no idea how to address it.

He'd get up tomorrow morning, drive to Auburn and mail his reply. It wasn't that far. Lisbon would never be any the wiser. He certainly wouldn't betray anything by his tone.

Resolute, Jane picked up a pen and started his next letter. He'd be as cheerful as he knew how. He was determined to make her smile.

xxx

_Dear Lisbon,_

_Were you aware that if you walk into a Starbucks and ask for one of every type of coffee they serve, in all variations, they will refuse to serve you? I know, outrageous isn't it? I tried this morning, but I was informed by the disgruntled barista that there was a lineup behind me and she positively refused to make me that many coffees. I was prepared to pay for them. I was tempted to summon a manager, but I didn't feel like being forcibly ejected from a coffee shop this time..._

xxx

TBC

(I make no promises as to when, but I will try to make it in reasonable time.)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Look how speedy I was this time! Aren't you all impressed with me?

xxx

_Request #11: Jane picking out Lisbon's Christmas present AND Request #12: Jane keeping track of Lisbon on television AND Request #3 (again) some of the conversations between Annie and Jane: _

xxx

_Dear Jane,_

_I'm sending you your Christmas present to Stockton. Christmas is in a month, but I'm telling you now so that you have enough advanced warning that you can plan your travels accordingly. I know you're heading east, but I figure that won't take all month, and you're due to go south next. If you want it, you know where to find it. It's up to you. Don't you dare thank me._

_In other news, I very nearly got run over with a shopping cart yesterday. (I was pushing the cart, not someone nearly crashed into me with a cart. I realized after I wrote that sentence that it might be confusing.) Luckily, I have quick reflexes. Here's what happened. I was at the grocery store..._

_[...]_

x

Jane folded Lisbon's latest letter carefully and put it in his glove compartment. So Lisbon was planning on sending him a Christmas present, was she?

She didn't have to do that. Even if the idea made him smile. _Of course_ she'd bought him a present. He'd have to make a point of thanking her for it when he next wrote her, she had specifically asked him not to after all.

And_ obviously_ he was going buy her one back. Not just because she was buying him one either. This wasn't a reciprocity thing. It wasn't that at all. Jane tapped his fingers against the dashboard of his car. He hadn't really thought about Christmas much; it wasn't a big thing for him, particularly given his current lifestyle. But now that she'd brought it up, and now that he _was_ thinking about it, _of course_ he was sending her something. He'd have come to the conclusion himself eventually (even if the realization would have taken a little longer). He _wanted_ to send her something. He wanted to send her something very much. Whether she sent him anything or not.

Just to let her know that he was thinking of her.

The idea made him smile.

Jane leaned back against the front seat. The next question was what to get her then? He wanted to get Lisbon something that she'd like, something just for _her._ Not something practical, nothing that could be classified as sensible. Particularly not anything like those leadership books she insisted on reading in her free time, which were really just more work masquerading as a hobby. Something more like...

Novels.

Jane's face lit up. He wanted to get her novels. They would be the perfect counterpoint to Lisbon's unconscious tendency to let her job take over her life. They'd been discussing books off and on in her letters and he was constantly trying to convince her to take a little more time for herself, to relax. Novels would be perfect.

He needed to find a bookstore. Jane thought he remembered passing a Barnes and Noble on his way to the post office...

Mind made up, Jane started his car and turned back the way he'd come.

After all, he had Christmas shopping to do.

xxx

Jane walked confidently into the Barnes and Noble, only to deflate somewhat when he saw the sheer ranges of choice afforded to him in the massive store. Clearly he needed a game plan. He knew he wanted to buy Lisbon novels, and nothing that could be classified as even remotely practical. Which meant he would be sticking to the fiction section, and so could ignore a good half of the store. That made things more manageable in his brain. He decided to take the store section by section. Jane started wandering towards the fiction section, subtly doing his best to avoid the eyes of the salespeople. He was in no mood to be helped by an overly friendly college student eager to recommend the latest best-seller.

Jane considered his options, and what he knew about the woman he was buying for.. Then he smiled. Mysteries. Lisbon liked mysteries. She was on about the fourth of the Peter Wimsey novels. She'd probably read at least one other before Christmas rolled around, but that still left him at least half a dozen books in the series to buy her. Jane was pleasantly surprised to find them all at the store. He'd been expecting massive gaps in the series based on what was in stock. He supposed the store was preparing for the Christmas rush. He scooped the small pile of books up, rather belatedly wishing he'd thought to pick up a basket. Oh well, too late now. He would make do.

Jane walked slowly through the rest of the mystery section. He knew that Lisbon already had copies of Sherlock Holmes, so that was a no go. Besides, he wanted to get her something _new,_ something that she hadn't read before. A set of colourful spines and ridiculous titles caught his eye. Setting down his pile of Wimsey, Jane picked out one of the books. It appeared to be a series of a young girl who lived in an English country house, liked experimenting with poisons, and, in her spare time, helping the police solve crime. They sounded ridiculous. Immediately sold, Jane added the first two books in the series to his pile.

Before leaving the mystery section, Jane doubled back to pick up a copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It would make a good gift for Annie. After all, it wouldn't do to leave out Lisbon's niece (particularly if Lisbon was going to be visiting her family for Christmas).

With that, Jane turned and headed towards the romance section in search of a little variety; Lisbon had a fondness for romance as well. After shooing a salesperson away (though he did take the basket the young woman had considerately bought him), Jane started wandering the aisles, hoping something would jump out at him. He was loathe to admit it, but he felt rather out of his depth. Most of the books on the shelves looked strikingly similar, and Jane quite frankly had no idea where to begin. He wandered a bit aimlessly, until a series caught his eye, all with intriguing colourful titles. When Jane realized his chosen set of romance novels actually featured a ring of secret English spies during Napoleonic France, he was sold. Besides, there were quite a number of books already in the series, which meant they couldn't be all bad, could they? Other people clearly bought them. Shrugging off his indecision, Jane grabbed the first two, really starting to enjoy his little shopping trip.

He even stopped by the Harlequin romance shelf, picking the one with the most absurd title he could find. Which actually turned out to be a quite a difficult choice, in the end. Jane wasn't sure whether Lisbon would prefer an implausible sounding story about cowboys, or an implausible sounding story featuring a Mediterranean prince of some kind. In the end he decided on the western theme.

Then Jane ambled over to the classics section (after a quick stop at the fantasy section, just for balance, obviously – wouldn't want Lisbon's reading to be too skewed towards one genre or another). That was when Jane started buying her some of his favourite books. He couldn't help himself. He'd started reading the classics years before, trying to distance himself from the county fair circuit. And some of them he quite enjoyed. He bought her Dickens and Bronte and Wodehouse before picking up Anne of Green Gables on an impulse.

Then, glancing down at the (now rather heavy) basket on his arm, Jane realized that it was full. He frowned.

He may have gone a little overboard.

He wasn't even going to think about the postage...

Then the set of his jaw turned stubborn. He didn't care. He didn't care one little bit. Let Lisbon scold if she thought he'd been too extravagant. He was halfway across the state anyway (he knew there had to be an advantage to that). He was buying the books. Every single one. And there wasn't a single thing she could do about it. Besides, it wasn't like he had anyone else to buy for. He just...

He wanted to make her happy.

And she was always so generous, with her time, with her sympathy, really, just in general. So he was buying her a mini-library. That was all there was too it.

Resolutely, Jane marched over to the cash registers to buy his purchases. Afterwards, when his books were tucked away in the trunk of his car, he turned back into the store, intending to relax with a cup of tea at the place's coffee shop.

His resolution didn't last long.

It seemed that while Barnes and Noble had an excellent selection of books, their tea selection was nothing to write home about. They had the basics of course, orange pekoe and earl grey, and a couple of green teas, but nothing that stood out. Nothing that he wanted. And Jane realized in disgust that the store belonged to the same chain that had once put whipped cream in his tea. _Whipped cream! _It was practically a crime against nature. Not to mention, the young woman behind the counter had already fumbled more than a few coffee orders. Jane had his doubts that she would be able to remember even the simplest of instructions, liking putting the milk into his teacup first.

With one final disdainful sniff at their pathetic tea selection (festive blends indeed, he refused to even consider their candy cane flavour, and "Let it Snow", whatever _that_ was, sounded infinitely worse. No wonder people wanted whipped cream in everything they ordered –they needed it to block the taste of their actual drink), Jane turned on his heel and marched out of the store. He'd seen a local place just down the road. It looked far more promising when it came to a good cup of tea.

xxx

Jane cheerfully dunked his teabag in his Assam tea (to which milk had been added first) as he stepped away from the counter and the cozy tea room he'd found.

Really, this coffee shop was much better for relaxation than the hideous place in the bookstore. This place was comfortable, obviously a place that people came to relax. It boasted a lot of over-stuffed armchairs with stray magazines strewn around and a single TV in the corner with the volume turned down.

A casual glance told Jane the news was on.

A second one caused him to freeze in surprise.

Because Lisbon was on the screen. He couldn't believe it, but she was. He'd been secretly trying to catch a glimpse of her for weeks, and now there she was, right in front of him, without even trying.

Quickly, he walked closer to the television, pleased when he found a seat nearby with a clear view.

She was giving a statement at a press conference, describing the circumstances surrounding a double homicide on the other side of the state and asking the public to come forward if they knew anything. Calm, confident, reassuring. She was doing well, of course she was.

And she looked good. Really good actually. She'd cut her hair. She had bangs again. He liked them.

He wasn't the only one, if the sideways glances of the local sheriff standing next to her were anything to go by. Not that the man had any serious intentions (the wedding ring on his left hand confirmed that), but he was certainly admiring. And Jane was pretty sure that Lisbon had caught the attention of a couple of men at a table in the corner of his coffee shop. They were nudging each other, eyes locked on the television. Jane was pretty sure he caught the word "hot" drifting across the room.

He'd never paid that much attention to it before (tried not to, in all honesty), but Lisbon did garner a certain amount of male attention. Not that she usually acted on it, but she still got it.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Jane returned his focus to woman on the screen in front of him. Not that it was hard.

It was her eyes, really. Those honest, sad eyes. They made a man curious, made him want to unravel their mystery, made him want to break through the restraint to the truth behind.

Jane knew he'd gotten farther than most people, a thought that caused him about equal parts pleasure and pain.

He watched Lisbon for another minute or so, when her press conference ended and the camera switched back to the news anchor. Jane immediately lost interest in the screen.

He shifted his attention back to his tea. At least he tried to.

Lisbon hadn't changed _much_, but she _had_ changed. Of course she had. It'd been months since he'd seen her.

Still, he was glad he'd seen her. Glad of that little wisp of a connection. Seeing her hadn't been painful, hadn't brought back bad memories like he'd thought it might.

Jane supposed that might be considered progress.

Maybe.

She'd certainly been front and centre during the press conference. In charge. Getting things done. Whether other people wanted them done or not.

But then, Lisbon always did exactly what she said she was going to do. She always did what she thought was right. Regardless of other people's opinions.

Jane tightened his grip on his cup.

Then he forced his fingers to relax, shaking his head and deliberately ignoring the frustration bubbling up inside of him, Jane focused instead on the pleasure of seeing her. He missed her. He forced herself to remember her letters, her stories. He thought about her fighting that distant connection (something he hadn't deserved at all). Speaking of connections...

He found a smile then. Because he owed her a letter.

Fishing an ever-present pad of paper from his vest, Jane took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, sipped of his tea, and started to write.

x

_Grass Valley, California,_

_Lisbon dear,_

_I got your letter. Of course I'll go and pick up your Christmas present. Of course I want it. You didn't have to get me one though. I'm going to dare your displeasure and thank you. I want you to know that I appreciate it Teresa, along with everything else you've done for me. Stockton sounds like just about the perfect place to be in a month._

_I saw you on television the other day, a press conference, obviously. It was that double homicide in Monterey. In spite of the subject matter, it was good to hear your voice. Also, you got your hair cut. I like it. The bangs suit you. You looked lovely._

_I'm also glad you survived your near hit and run at the grocery store. Did you try to arrest the culprit? Tell me you at least flashed your badge._

_[...]_

x

When he finished his letter, Jane stood and stretched. It was really time form him to get on the road again, now that he'd bought Lisbon's presents.

He smiled, thinking of the small pile of books in the trunk of his car.

Then he frowned. In a way books weren't a very _exciting_ present... Sure, there were a lot of them (a mini mountain really). But still... He wondered if he shouldn't get her something else.

Jane remembered the slightly sad eyes of the woman he'd seen on the television screen only a little while earlier (their expression lonely really, if Jane was honest with himself). That woman deserved to be spoiled a little.

A strong wave of affection rushed through him.

He missed her. He really missed her. She was important. He was confused and sometimes frustrated or angry, but she was still important.

He wanted to buy her something that showed that.

Leaving the coffee shop, Jane turned in the opposite direction of his car.

He thought he remembered seeing a jewellery shop a couple of stores down.

xxx

Jane was impressed that all of the books fit in one box. Even with the late addition to the stack.

The brooch had reminded him of Lisbon the second he saw it in the store. He wasn't sure why. It was silver, not flashy, relatively classic.

So he'd bought it without a second thought.

Because he _knew_ that it would suit her.

Besides, it was something Lisbon could wear at work, if she wanted to of course. Though Jane supposed a flying tackle might not be the best thing for silver jewellery; at least the brooch looked reasonably sturdy. Jane was sure it was tough. Just like its future owner. Although, maybe it would be best if Lisbon didn't wear it into the field...

Oh well. He'd leave that decision up to her.

Jane smirked to himself. Then he frowned. Because, while the problem of what to put the gifts in was solved with the purchase of his enormous (and really quite sturdy) box, where to send them wasn't.

After all, Lisbon wasn't going to be home over Christmas.

Jane pulled out his phone. _I need your address,_ he typed quickly.

Luckily for him, Annie was generally quick with her replies. The first always took the longest, and this time her answer only took about fifteen minutes. _What? Why? You planning a visit?_

Jane answered immediately (if a little vaguely). _Not exactly._

_Then why?_

Jane could practically see her frowning at him, so he tried to joke. _You shouldn't ask questions like that so close to Christmas. Santa might not like it._

Annie's next reply seemed more cheerful (and very typical for a teenager). _You sending me a present?_ She asked.

Jane found himself smiling. _Did I say that?_

But Annie cut right to the chase. _Pretty much._

He tried a threat. _Hey! Just for that, I'm not sending you anything._

But Annie wasn't a stupid young woman. And unfortunately, in this case she held all of the cards, and she knew it (if her next text message was anything to go by). _Plus, Aunt Reese is going to be here for Christmas,_ Annie reminded him.

Jane smiled. He was sure it would be a lovely little family reunion. _Is she?_

This time Annie was definitely annoyed with him in her reply. _Don't be dumb. I'm sure she told you she was coming._

_She might have mentioned it, now that I think about it, _Jane admitted with a chuckle to himself. Lisbon women were far too much fun to annoy.

_I told you, don't be dumb, _Annie ordered him (another thing the Lisbon women were good at).

Jane tried to defend himself, _I wasn't._

Annie's answer was quick and decisive. _You were. And yes. I'll give her your present._

Jane supposed he hadn't been exactly subtle with what he wanted, so he was gracious. _Thank you._

Annie's next text took a few minutes to arrive (and made Jane laugh aloud when it did come). _If you send me one too._

_Naturally, _Jane promised. He'd already conveniently bought it anyway.

_I knew it,_ Annie gloated.

Jane indulged her. _You think you're so smart._

_I am,_ the teenager agreed._ I told you, you're the one being dumb._

_Yes, you've mentioned that several times,_ Jane reminded her.

Then Annie sent a text that made his heart thump in his chest. _You both are. Come for Christmas dinner._

Jane took a few minutes to reply. He knew his answer would irritate her, and wasn't the one she wanted, but he couldn't help it. He didn't know if... It was Christmas. Christmas was for family. Christmas was for happy times. Christmas shouldn't be tainted with murder, and serial killers, and grudges, and... _him._

None of them deserved that.

So Jane slowly typed in the reply he knew he had to give. _I can't. I'm sorry._

Annie's answer wasn't a surprise. _Fine._

Jane tried to pacify her. _I really am._

His feeble attempts at making it better didn't work (not that he was surprised; he hadn't been particularly good at making things better in a long time). _Sure._

Jane knew monosyllabic replies weren't a good thing, even over text. So he tried again. _Thank you though._

Annie ignored his second peace offering just as she had the first (and maybe she was right to, Jane wasn't sure). _Whatever._

Jane sighed. He certainly wasn't going to make anything better today, so probably best to end the conversation. _Good night, Annie._

He took it as a good sign that she even bothered to reply. _Good night Mr. Jane._

Jane slowly closed his phone. He knew Annie'd e-mail him her address, even if it took a couple of days for her to do it because she was annoyed with him. He glanced over at the two boxes sitting in his hotel room before turning away.

They just made him feel lonely.

A second later he was looking at them again though. Jane picked them up and carted them back out to his car.

He needed to drive.

Drive, and drive, and then drive some more.

Drive and try not to think. About anything.

Right now, he didn't know what else to do.

xxx

_Request 13: Jane with Pete and Sam on Christmas _

xxx

It was Christmas Eve and Jane was in Stockton, with yet another large box in his trunk. But this box wasn't full of things he was sending, it was for him.

He'd just come from the post office and picked up Lisbon's Christmas present.

Her very large Christmas present.

Jane was fairly certain it would take every ounce of his self-control not to dig into it when he got back to his hotel room. He was determined to wait until morning to open it though. It just seemed like the thing to do. And Jane knew that he'd regret it tomorrow if he opened his gift now.

Jane grunted as he lifted the (extremely heavy) box and carried it into his motel room. Jostling it slightly at the door, he balanced it on his knee and somehow managed to get it inside without incident. He tossed his room key next to the TV and set the box on the table. Then he started hunting through the room for take-out menus.

But it was no use. The massive box was practically calling to him (there was a reason he hadn't picked it up at the post office until the last possible second).

Surely it wouldn't hurt to just take a peek... Just _one_.

The box was massive after all. There was obviously more than one thing in it. Even if he pulled out a single present, he'd still have plenty to discover on Christmas morning...

Besides, he'd never been one for following the rules.

Mind made up, Jaen bounded across the room and used his car keys to cut into the packing tape across the top of his present. Flipping open the flaps, he froze.

The box did indeed have more than one present in it. In fact, it had at least a dozen. Easily.

And they were all neatly, meticulously, and individually _wrapped._

Jane smiled foolishly. _Of course_ she'd wrapped them all.

He gingerly lifted them all out of the box (even with the wrapping he could make a pretty good guess at some of them, though he tried not to).

He wasn't going to open a single one of them until tomorrow though. Not a single one.

Jane piled his presents on the table and shoved the large box they'd been in underneath and out of sight.

They were the only festive thing in the room.

And all of a sudden (and for about the twentieth time in the last two weeks), Jane regretted turning down Annie's invitation to Christmas dinner. He'd had to do it, but...

Fidgeting with his phone, Jane turned away from the pile of gifts in his room. He'd thought it would be best if he spent Christmas alone. He couldn't spend it with Lisbon. _He couldn't._

But maybe... Maybe...

Mind made up, Jane turned on his phone and dialed, pleased when someone answered.

"Hi Pete, it's Patrick. I know this is short notice, but what are your plans for tomorrow?"

xxx

The next morning Jane's room was covered in wrapping paper and he was flipping through the guidebook to California's favourite attractions that Lisbon had sent him when his phone buzzed.

Jane pounced on it. _Merry Christmas. You're an idiot._

He frowned. He'd thought Annie would like his little present. She certainly hadn't struck him as the type to turn up her nose at a book simply because it represented technology that was more than ten years old. _Merry Christmas to you too. Does this mean you don't like Holmes?_

Annie's answer was quick. Idiot. _My book is fine. Thank you. Aunt Reese says I'll like it._

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. Well that was one mystery solved. _You will._

Annie's next text was teasing. _Speaking of Aunt Reese..._

Jane couldn't stop himself from prompting her when she didn't continue. _Yes?_

Was something wrong with Lisbon? Had she not liked his present? He'd liked hers... Annie's reply put his mind at ease. _She seemed to like her books. And her brooch. She really liked that._

Jane smiled as he typed his answer. _Good. I'm glad._

Annie's next text was a little slow in coming. _She seemed kind of upset though._

Jane's heart skittered. He hadn't thought of it that way, but he could see how she might be. He knew she missed him. Truth be told, he liked that she missed him. But he hadn't wanted to make her upset. He'd wanted her to be happy. He'd wanted to help give her a good Christmas. But like so much lately, he seemed to be having trouble getting it right. He glanced around at his little pile of presents, the ones that had made his morning special. _I'm sorry. I didn't want to do that._

This time Annie's reply was as quick (and insulting) as it usually was. _I know. But that's why you're an idiot._

Jane sighed._ I know, _he admitted, knowing that didn't make it better.

At least his answer seemed to make one Lisbon feel better. _Good, I guess,_ Annie told him._ She's reading your letter now._

Jane typed his reply into his phone quickly, trying to do what little he could from across the state. _Tell her there'll be another one waiting for her when she gets back to Sacramento. And tell her I loved my present._

After a second he thought of something else to add. _And tell her Merry Christmas._

Annie's final reply was almost vicious. _Tell her yourself,_ she texted back.

And reading it, Jane knew that there would be no more messaging that morning.

Angry with himself, he fished out the chocolate Lisbon had sent him. He desperately needed something sweet now.

xxx

Jane was more than a little glad to be driving to Pete and Sam's trailer that evening. Opening Lisbon's enormous (and incredibly thoughtful) gift, while lovely, had been a little overwhelming.

Add that to the guilt and the (entirely self-directed) anger he felt for having caused her even a little bit of pain with his own gift, he needed a distraction.

Shaking his head to clear it, Jane picked up the store-bought pumpkin pie off of the front seat of his car and trudged up to Sam and Pete's trailer. He knocked on the door and pasted a cheerful expression on his face.

His smile turned genuine when Pete opened the door wearing a Santa hat.

"Well, aren't you festive?" Jane drawled.

"Patty!" Pete bellowed at him, sweeping him up into an enthusiastic hug (during which Jane just barely saved his pie from being crushed). "Come on in and try the eggnog! It's disgusting, but it's tradition!"

"And obviously heavy on the rum," Jane muttered, stepping into the trailer which smelled of an odd mixture of peppermint and turkey, along with the rum he could smell on Pete's breath.

"What's that?" Pete asked him.

"I said I'm driving, otherwise that sounds fun," Jane said more loudly.

Pete sighed loudly. "You really have grown almost respectable, haven't you?"

"Not entirely," Jane promised. He turned towards Sam, "Merry Christmas Sammy."

To his surprise she smiled at him as she took the pie and set it on the counter before giving him a hug. "I'm glad you came Patrick."

"It's good to see you," he told her, squeezing a little.

She pulled back with a smirk. "And good call on the eggnog."

Jane shrugged. "I've never liked the stuff."

Sam smirked. "Me neither, but it keeps Pete happy. Even if I don't think he got the ratio of nog to rum anywhere near right. Thanks for the pie, by the way."

"It's just a store-bought," Jane told her.

"I'd noticed," Sam assured him dryly. "Still, I'm surprised you found one at all, this late."

"I nearly had to fight an old lady for it," Jane said, his voice serious.

"Oh you did not," Sam said with a laugh. "Even you wouldn't fight an old woman for a pie on Christmas eve."

Jane smirked. "You got me Sammy. But it was the second-last one on the shelf."

"Guess we got lucky then," Sam told him. "Now tell me, how you doing?"

Jane shrugged. "I'm doing alright."

"Are you?" Sam asked, eyes narrowed.

"Sure!" Jane said with a smile.

"And how's that state trooper of yours?" Sam asked.

"Pepper?" Pete asked cheerfully. "Yeah, how is she? Haven't heard from her since she showed up on our doorstep. Didn't expect to of course, but still..." He trailed off.

Jane hesitated slightly. "She's alright, I guess. I haven't really seen her."

"But you _have_ heard from her?" Sam prompted.

Jane sighed, but didn't bother to lie. "Yeah, I have."

Sam nodded once. "And you're obviously still being a bit of an idiot about that."

Before Jane could argue, Pete smacked him on the back. "Course he's being an idiot about that, Sammy. Patty might think he's a sharp one, and maybe he is most of the time, but we've all got our weak spots. This is his, the fool."

"Thanks Pete," Jane said neutrally. He really didn't want to talk about this.

"No problem," Pete said, still cheerful. "Still, it's Christmas, so we'll let you get away with it. Have some food instead. I made artichoke dip!"

Jane gratefully took the plate of crackers and dip practically being thrust in his lap. He glanced at Sam. She was still watching him in disapproval. After a moment, she seemed to decide to let the subject drop. Suddenly she smiled and slipped a party hat on his head.

"Alright Patty, I'll let you slide for today," she told him. "If you want to be an idiot, that's your business. Besides, it's Christmas, and you did bring pie."

Jane grinned back and passed her the crackers, suddenly glad he'd decided not to spend the day entirely alone.

xxx

Still, although he'd certainly enjoyed dinner with Pete and Sam, when he was back in his motel room that late that night (slightly over-full from dinner), his old friends weren't the ones who occupied Jane's thoughts. Jane grabbed the new fleece blanket balanced at the end of his bed and threw it over his legs. It was certainly cosier than the scratchy motel comforter.

Then he fished out his trusty pad of paper and began to write.

xxx

_Modesto, California,_

_Dear Teresa,_

_I hope my letter finds you home, safe and sound, (and if possible relaxed) after a wonderful Christmas. I'm sure that the subset of the Lisbon family had a wonderful time together. I can just picture the three of you crowded around a tree, opening presents. Closely followed by you and your brother squabbling over who was in charge of making which part of the dinner. While Annie tried very hard not to laugh. I doubt she succeeded. I hope you punished her by making her peel potatoes. _

_You'll be pleased to know, Teresa, that even yours truly wasn't alone for Christmas. Your choice of Stockton as a city to mail my present to was rather inspired dear, due to its proximity to Modesto. And who do you think was in Modesto this Christmas, dear? Pete and Sam. So I had people to have Christmas dinner with. I provided the pumpkin pie. Store-bought of course, but still good. I doubt my holiday meal was as enjoyable as yours though. I was subject to several disapproving looks, whereas, chez Lisbon I'm sure you would have been the one giving them if any were needed. Well, you or Annie. She seems quite judgemental of late. Probably a teenager thing._

_But I've gotten ahead of myself in my Christmas tale. Because before dinner, in my hotel room that morning there was something under my tree. At least, that's where it would have been if I had a tree. It was under my metaphorical tree, because you sent me a present. Before I sent you yours I was vaguely concerned that you'd be scolding me in your next letter for spending too much money on you, or spoiling you, or some such nonsense. Then I picked up your box from the Stockton post office._

_The elderly woman who brought it out from the back teased me about it. She seemed to think I must have been rather a good boy this year. You and I know different though, don't we?_

_It's like you decided to compensate for the fact that you knew no one else would send me presents by buying them all yourself. You didn't have to do that Teresa. You really didn't. But thank you. I'm particularly impressed that you took the time to wrap all of the individual gifts inside the one big box. They made rather a cheerful pile in the corner of my motel room. When I put them next to the television with the Christmas tree channel on, it seemed almost festive. Even if, as I said, you went a little overboard. (I'd scold, but I don't think I'm in any position to do so, given the size of my own box to you.)_

_You'll deny it anyway of course, so now there's nothing left for me to do but thank you. The guidebook of 1001 things to see in California is a perfect blend of utility and humour. I admit, I'm a bit intrigued by some of the entries. I see that you also sent me a journal, for writing down my thoughts and trying to sort through them (your words written on the first page). It's a thoughtful gift, Teresa. I'll certainly give it a try, though I can't guarantee success. The third package contained a fleece blanket, in case my car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and it's a cold night. As an added side benefit, I do find it makes the hotel rooms along the way a little bit more cheerful. So thank you. It looks cozy._

_Tucked under the blanket, as you know, was a box of tea. My favourite brand. I thought you were spoiling me then, Teresa, until I found the chocolates underneath and knew for sure. I suppose you thought that everyone deserved a bit of a treat on Christmas morning? I'd point out that I'm not a child, but you'd simply disagree (and you might be right). So instead I've decided to just enjoy my chocolate._

_Speaking of making Christmas festive, it turned out that the lack of decoration in my motel room wasn't a problem. You'd foreseen the difficulty, and found possibly the gaudiest Santa figurine that I've ever seen in my life. Maybe I should be grateful that it didn't sing and dance. I put it next to the television, and now it's grinning at me. Ridiculous thing. A completely and utterly ridiculous gift, Teresa. I'm sure you're curled up in Sacramento with your normal-looking decorations, laughing at me. You and the foolish fellow now staring at me from across the room with his absurdly ruddy cheeks. I suppose he does add something to the day. I don't know what though... I've been calling him Joe, out of sheer contrariness._

_Next in your care package (yes, I'm onto you, Teresa – I can see your intention) was soup (for I assume, if I stop somewhere and can't find a restaurant), granola bars, bottled water, a candle, and a flashlight, all of which I promise to store in my car in case I get stranded and need supplies for a day._

_Tucked in the bottom, there were still a couple of boxes. I picked up the smaller one first. "Songs of the seashore?" You dare to send me a relaxation CD? After I promised so faithfully not to send you a sleep schedule, dear? You really sent me the sound of the crashing waves? In an endearing combination of genuine hope that the ridiculous tape might help me sleep mixed with a healthy dose of mockery. Well played._

_Underneath it was the e-reader. At first I resented the new technology. Give me an old-fashioned book any day! Then practicality crept up on me, and I reflected on how difficult it's been driving a significant number of books around California. One or two is easy, any more... So I turned the thing on warily, only to find that you'd already loaded a bunch of the classics on it. Plus a few more modern mysteries. It seems we had similar, literary-related thoughts this Christmas._

_Thank you for all of it, Teresa. And don't bother telling me that I don't have to thank you, because it was for Christmas. I'll just thank you again, for all of it. Even that ridiculous Santa Clause. (I hope you won't be hurt if I use "Songs of the Seashore" as a coaster for my tea.)_

_Annie mentioned that you liked your gift. I hope so. I thought you might like something to occupy your brain while on vacation. It couldn't have been easy for you to try to relax. Luckily, I'm sure there was hockey on. Nice physical sport, that. It probably provided some distraction._

_I hope going back to work isn't too big a shock after your lazy week. Have a happy New Year, Teresa._

_Love Jane_

_P.S. I thought I'd stick around here for another day (see Pete and Sam again maybe), before heading towards Turlock._

x

Jane paused, considering his letter. He hadn't really thought about it before, but maybe it wasn't the worst idea in the world. Sticking around in one place for longer than a day or so.

Pete and Sam weren't always the sweetest people in the world, but they were good friends. He missed being around people who knew him sometimes. The feeling was perfectly natural of course. Human beings craved companionship.

And if he stuck around for an extra day or so, it would give Lisbon time to get home and get his letter.

And catch up.

Jane's smile was a bit painful.

He wanted her to catch up.

He wanted to hear about her Christmas.

xxx

TBC

A/N: Also, speaking of Christmas, last year I took requests about this time of year. I thought I'd do it again, with a minor variation. Last year I took a request for each day of December (although I missed a couple of days) on my LJ (though I let people know here) and I wrote a fic that was a minimum of 500 words. Now, I have no objection to writing the same number of fic this year, but I'm behind and busy, so there's no way I'm writing 30 one-shots before the end of December. That said, if anyone would like a Christmas fic, let me know. I require a character or pairing (doesn't have to be the Mentalist, though if you are requesting the Mentalist and you want a romance, the pairing does pretty much have to be J/L). I also require a prompt, which, bonus points if it doubles as the title (because I hate titles). I will then post said fic here (and on my LJ), some in the month of December, with some very likely spilling over into January. So let me know if you're interested.


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